By Norma Meyer, special to Southern California News Group
Sunbathing Godzilla monsters clogged my path. As waves crashed against ancient lava rocks, I scrambled off an inflatable panga dinghy, regained my balance and then haphazardly side-stepped a jillion long-clawed, spiky, crusty-scaled sci-fi creatures blending into the rugged, black volcanic terrain. Like other iconic animals in these wildlife-wondrous Galapagos Islands, the marine iguanas appeared to care less about the clodhopper Homo sapiens in their midst. But then, I was a humble bystander in an eco-paradise where boobies are birds and the sexiest ones have the brightest blue feet.
Primeval giant tortoises would plod slo-mo beside me. The world’s rare northernmost penguins splashed by. My heart turned mushy as I strolled alongside dozens of darling sea lion pups nursing their moms all up and down an unspoiled white coral beach that belonged solely to them. With no doubt, Mother Nature sacredly rules in the unparalleled Galapagos, its 19 main islands sprinkled 620 miles off Ecuador’s coast and a conservation model for the planet. Some 97% of the archipelago has been a strictly protected national park since 1959, sheltering endemic species who astoundingly adapted to these isolated Pacific Ocean outposts and are found nowhere else on Earth.
This time, for my second coveted trip to the Galapagos, I was going in grand style. Evolution sage Charles Darwin bunked in a ship’s hammock when he famously visited the islands in 1835 aboard the cramped, two-masted HMS Beagle. Sorry Charlie, but for seven nights, I sailed in spacious five-star “subtle opulence” aboard Aqua Expeditions’ sleek, Italian-designed, seven-cabin superyacht Aqua Mare, formerly the private pleasure of a Turkish mogul (who had christened it “Dr. No No”).
So after a rigorous hike to relish neon-pink Galapagos flamingos or a face-to-face deep-water snorkel with comical Galapagos green turtles, I retired to my buoyant lair that featured lustrous walnut veneer walls, polished Italian Carrara marble, curated 17th-century prints of Galapagos animals, and classy “objet d’arts” such as a tabletop octopus sculpture adorning the wide-windowed panoramic lounge. Both indoors and out, Peruvian Japanese-fusion cuisine was served on custom, pale teal Balinese-made dinnerware accented with gold and emblazoned with patterns inspired by Darwin’s drawings of plants. Beautifully etched depictions of starfish graced the glass cabinet in my lower deck stateroom and artisan brass door knobs resembled Galapagos turtles on the vessel’s main entry. I swear, though, the onboard vibe was not hoity-toity at all. It was, literally, “barefoot luxury” — a no-shoes policy (to keep from mucking up the plush carpets) created a casual, carefree mood.
The four-decker, 164-foot-long Aqua Mare has a 16-passenger capacity, but on my mid-November “West Galapagos Expedition Cruise” there were only seven of us tourists — three couples (from Long Island, Montreal and a pair of 80-year-old adventurers from London) and me. No one had booked the posh “Owner’s Suite,” which, at an apartment-sized 861 square feet, is billed as the hugest nautical chamber in the Galapagos.
Although the yacht was gorgeous, the trip excelled because of the genuinely warm, helpful and professional 14 Ecuadorian crew members and two enthusiastic, fact-filled Galapagos-born onboard naturalists, Isabela Bucheli and Federico Idrovo. The personalized attention was first-rate and comfortable — our young guides called our cozy guest group “familia.”
Years ago, during my first enthralling (and land-based) foray in the Galapagos, I got around by public speedboat and open-air trucks, and stayed in a rustic cabin and small hotel on two of the four inhabited islands. On the Aqua Mare, we journeyed to over a dozen vastly different animal-abundant, people-devoid havens on eight islands, always anchoring offshore and riding one of the yacht’s eight-passenger panga boats to explore unique critters and dramatic scenery (we had both dry and wet landings disembarking from the tenders).
“This is like the bird airport,” Frederico said as we trudged along a trail on stunning North Seymour Island. Blue-footed booby parents nestled cutesy chicks with their webbed feet to keep them warm. Fuzzy baby frigate birds curiously eyed us, while grown male frigate birds bizarrely puffed out their cherry-red throat pouches like balloons to attract girlfriends. As for feathered romance, I learned the most desirable booby bachelors have the most turquoise feet. And the hue is a result of carotenoid pigments from their diet of sardines and other fish.
Speaking of airports, let’s back up. Obviously, the Galapagos is an extremely fragile environment, so just before my LATAM Airlines jet touched down on compact Baltra Island (human residents: zero), flight attendants vigorously sprayed an insecticide throughout the plane to kill any invasive organisms. Upon our fumigated arrival, a sign welcomed travelers to the “First Ecological Airport in the World” and three-foot-long, wrinkly, blotchy-skinned, yellowish land iguanas loitered near baggage claim. Impressively, this “green” airport is the only one in the universe entirely run on solar and wind power and built with recycled oil pipes from Ecuador’s Amazon region.
Aboard the sustainability-keen Aqua Mare, we started each day with a gourmet al fresco breakfast at 7 followed by unforgettable morning and afternoon excursions. Off Santiago Island’s coast, we drifted in our panga past the towering “Praying Monk” rock formation in Buccaneer’s Cove, a historic hideaway for plundering pirates. We walked along the Mars-like red sand beach and crimson cliffs of striking Rabida Island. We watched an aggressive swarm of frigate birds futilely try to steal the fresh catch out of a swimming sea lion’s mouth. Once, after I gingerly slid off the panga boat in a full wetsuit to snorkel, Frederico shouted three words I never wanted to hear: “There’s a shark!”
Actually, there were two (way too large) whitetip reef sharks slinking by so close I could’ve petted them. But they just glided along, followed by scores of flashy yellowtail surgeonfish parading through the aquatic Eden.
On Floreana Island, we took part in the world’s strangest mail service, established by a British whaling captain in 1793. For centuries, sailors put unstamped letters in a wooden whiskey barrel, hoping roving mariners might live near their home port and deliver them upon return. The tradition continues today. I sorted through over 100 stampless postcards left in a barrel by recent sightseers (Estonia, Japan, Sweden…) until I found one addressed to a family about 10 miles from my Los Angeles-area home.
“You’re not allowed to mail it,” Frederico cautioned. “You have to show up at their door and hand-deliver it just like in the old days.”
Tourism, take note, is tightly controlled in these Ecuador-owned “Enchanted Isles.” A number of expedition vessels can travel around here — the max is 100-passenger capacity — but they must be granted permits by the Galapagos National Park along with approved narrow time slots to visit specific islands, always with licensed naturalist guides. Remarkably, we had most places all to ourselves. Also, the Aqua Mare is a newer offering, launching its inaugural Galapagos voyage in June 2022 and boasting the only permanent berth in the archipelago. (Cruise rates from $10,500 per person; for more information go to aquaexpeditions.com/galapagos-cruise/). Our yacht is the fifth vessel belonging to Aqua Expeditions, a boutique small-ship company also sailing the Mekong, Peru’s Amazon and Indonesian seas and founded and run by Francesco Galli Zugaro, a globetrotting detail-savvy Italian-American entrepreneur now based in Singapore.
Aqua Mare’s activities — snorkeling, hiking, kayaking, stand-up paddleboarding — surely whetted appetites. The yacht’s fine dining, accompanied by (always available) wine and beer, earned top gastro grades; the talented head chef even prepared vegetarian versions of every seafood or meat course for me, or if I wanted, a yummy spaghetti pomodoro. (Kudos too for the margarita ice cream dessert in the salt-rimmed cocktail glass and the creamy avocado soup! Did I mention we also had our own pastry chef?)
Panga drivers regularly brought us up-close to uncommon wildlife such as stubby-winged Galapagos flightless cormorants, who over millennia lost their ability to fly but expertly dive underwater to spear eels and octopus. While we floated through a mangrove lagoon, sea turtles nonchalantly copulated alongside our panga and 14 spotted eagle manta rays encircled us to perform a water ballet.
On Isabela Island, our naturalists pointed out poison apple trees whose tiny fruit is ultra deadly to people but a treat for Galapagos tortoises. When walking anywhere, we usually came upon Galapagos land iguanas, Galapagos marine iguanas (the planet’s only oceangoing lizards), Galapagos sea lions and lumbering tortoises smack-dab resting in our path. Ho-hum humans, they all seemed to say.
In this exotic mecca, there is something so priceless about the encompassing silence or the only sounds being those of barking sea lions or the deep inhales of turtles surfacing for air. A Galapagos hawk and Galapagos doves soared through an afternoon’s stillness (yes those are species). A Galapagos carpenter bee, the only pollinator on the islands, buzzed among flowering shrubs. Vibrant reddish-orange 10-legged Sally Lightfoot crabs — supposedly named after a snazzy Caribbean dancer — scurried over a craggy boulder shared by a lone braying penguin and marine iguanas sneezing out ocean salt through their nose glands.
On tiny Mosquera Islet, home to a massive sea lion colony, pinniped parents dreamily spooned with their offspring in soft white sand. Suddenly, a bathing sea lion mom frantically rushed with her waddling youngsters from the blacktip shark-infested surf. Meanwhile, I lovingly communed with adorably precious pups who let out high-pitched “baaaas” to get their flippered mamas’ attention. It’s one of my favorite Galapagos memories.
Another involves my, ahem, navigational skills. Near the tip of Isabela Island, I excitedly sat in the captain’s padded Italian-crafted command chair on Aqua Mare’s bridge as we ceremoniously crossed the Equator. And no there wasn’t a bump when we went over it.
