Ayora dock. We pass a local church in full swing Saturday night service. We walk about 3
blocks off the main drag. We come to a street known as local restaurant row. Most visitors
coming to the Galapagos arrive by air and go directly to local cruise ships where all
meals are provided. Only the crews of the occasional arriving yacht blend in with the
local people. Taking a right we are faced with several sidewalk restaurants in a row, each
restaurant having a slightly different cook the fish or chicken on an open fire flame
theme. At night the street is closed to traffic to allow each restaurant to set up tables
in the street for customers. There are an appreciable number of local families here having
dinner with the exception of one table of what appears to be 10 Russians drinking two big
bottles of clear liquor, turns out to be tequila not vodka. The mood is like a county fair
in the US. Children are playing with each other, parents are drinking and talking. A TV at
a nearby bar is showing a wrestling match with mom, pop and little boy watching intently
as they eat dinner seated on stools at the bar. This was Victor's idea and I am thankful
for it. It is nice to dine closer to every day life in Galapagos.
It is Dusty and Victor's last night in Galapagos so after dinner we return to the main
street and visit the building next to the outdoor restaurant where we had lunch, discussed
later. The architecture is somewhere between New Mexico and Greece, white stucco with big
exposed structural timbers. At lunch today it was deserted but now it is more than alive,
a local nightclub again with mostly locals, this time without the kids. Downstairs you pay
to get in to dance. Upstairs there is a nice rooftop outdoor patio with and indoor lounge
with seating and one pool table. First we sit on the rooftop patio for an after dinner
drink. Later a brief shower drives us to a table inside. Wow I can hardly hear what John
is saying, the 65% techno and 35% Ecuadorian rap piped in from downstairs is too loud. We
endure for a while watching some slim well dressed blond chick hustle guys at the pool
table who have unwisely had a few drinks. We then call it a day.
Now for the afternoon adventures, we decide to visit the highlands located in the national
park. After lunch we pile into 2 air conditioned, no necessity, extended cab Toyota pickup
trucks. Our driver-guides speak little English, but we get by with Spanglish. We first go
to the highest point on Santa Cruz where off the side of the road are two volcano creators
that once served as the island's birthplace. A jungle path takes you a few yards to a
2,000 foot drop off protected by an almost inadequate old wooden fence. Nighttime walks
are unadvisable.
The next stop is the giant tortoise area. Some signs read "Do Not Touch the Turtles" and
"Leave 2 Meters Between You and the Turtle". I guess Tortuga literally translates to
turtle, but I have always known these special creatures as tortoise not turtle. We follow
the guides searching for the big guys. Soon we come up on a big one lumbering along. They
weigh 250 kilograms, 550 pounds, or more. They live 100 years or more. I suppose slowing
your roll could extend your life. They also eat lots of fruit and vegetables, another good
thing. The ground is littered with passion fruits, some cumquats and some guavas. We pick
the ripe ones up and eat as we walk from tortoise to tortoise, both adults and babies.
Soon we start tossing fruit within extended neck reach of the giants. One of the biggest
soon warms up to us and lets us know it. He could eat a fruit very efficiently in seconds.
The younger ones look like they play with their food before eating it. After a long walk
we return to the visitor's center, eat more tortoise food, fruit, and shop in the
visitor's store. I finally found tee shirts and other local dress for my grand babies.
The last stop before heading back to town is the lava tubes. Again a short jungle path
takes us to stairs that drop us about 100 feet into a tube, like a tunnel, under the lava.
When the volcano erupts the lava flow sometimes forms the underground arteries in which
molten lava flows when the surface has cooled and hardened. The tube quickly gets very
dark; we are treated to dim light bulbs at adequate intervals as we stumble down a lava
ruble strewn ever narrowing passage. At some point the already clumsy footing becomes wet.
The guide stops, touches a wet rock, points back to way we have come and says something
only Deborah thinks she understands. Deborah says in a few minutes we will be walking
through water in the tunnel. We can either return the way we have come or continue to an
exit that is ahead about 5 to 10 minutes. There is another little catch. The ceiling of
the tube will become so low that we must crawl on our bellies for several feet before we
can stand again, but what about the water, do we have to hold our breath? We flash back to
what was unexpectedly required of us on the waterfall trip in the Dominican Republic.
There we had to climb up through the swift flow of the falls with very poor footing
sometimes 30 feet or more. When we finally get across to our guides that we will go on to
see what it is like, both guides say something and walk back the way we have come. What
did they say? We finally piece together they are returning to get the trucks and drive
them around to the exit where they will meet us. Oh great, here we are in the dimly lit
lava tube that we must pass through even if we don't like what we see ahead. On we go; it
turns out there is no water level in the tube. The rocks become wetter and we even walk
through some mud. Finally we come to the low space. Our adrenalin starts to flow; well at
least there is no standing water; we may not have to hold our breath. Crawling on our
tummies on provided muddy cardboard we start the commitment to reach the other side; not
something you feel comfortable doing and maybe impossible if you are claustrophobic. Sever
feet later we are able to standup and continue our passage. Eventually there is daylight,
stairs and our guides with the pickups, water and rags to clean off some of the mud. It is
time to get back to Bella Donna and a shower followed by a sundowner.
Yesterday morning we toured the Charles Darwin Research Station. We started with breakfast
on Bella Donna loading up on food for the long walk ahead. First cereal which usually all
we would eat, but today we had pancakes, eggs, sausage and rolls as well. The walk to the
Station as well as in it would take us several miles and having been on passage diets our
bodies had no reserves. The station was ok, but you probably have to be an environmental
scientist to take it all in. The tortoise experience was not nearly as impressive as the
afternoon experience would turn out to be, but we did not then know what we know now. One
tortoise was very special, Lonesome George, he is the last of a specie of tortoise that
used to live on Pinta. He lives in a pen with 2 attractive young females, but so far no
babies.
God Bless Bella Donna.
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