After getting dressed and packing, we went back to Lelia’s for breakfast, which included blue eggs, coffee, papaya, granola, yogurt, bread, and guava marmalade; all the food came from crops and farms on Floreana. Looking back, the two meals at Lelia’s were quietly some of my favorite memories from the trip. Even though the family didn’t speak English, they were incredibly gracious and the food was excellent. It was a very different and satisfying experience to enjoy varied, healthy, and delicious foods that came from farms only a few miles away in a place with barely more than a hundred people. It was local, organic, and farm-to-table without being pretentious. That breakfast actually led me to rediscover the simple joy of a bowl of granola, yogurt, and fruit, which I’ve now incorporated into my daily routine. And even though I’m not a coffee drinker, I found myself drinking coffee every morning because, hey, it’s South America. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do.
Once breakfast was finished, we hopped into an open-air bus and rode up to the highlands of Floreana, where Juan told us stories about the interesting human history of the island. Highlights include pirates, several mysterious deaths, and a sneaky Irishman who managed to escape the island after being marooned there for two years. We visited some of the pirates’ caves and the island’s only source of fresh water, a slow drip through the rocks that is enough to sustain the island’s entire population.
Also up in the highlands is a large, outdoor enclosure housing another species of tortoises. It was here that we got to see some breeding (this being the end of mating season). Well, “attempted breeding” might be more accurate. As we walked through the jungle, we came across a male pursuing a female with fire in his loins and passion in his eyes. Or maybe malice in his eyes, it’s hard to tell with tortoises. Cue the courting music.
All the tourists intently waiting for some live-action tortoise porn (again, myself included) noticed that the female had wedged herself awkwardly between a couple of rocks and a tree, almost as though she was not appreciative of this gentleman’s advances. The scene started to look more like tortoise rape as the male went through his mounting procedure.
After several minutes of unsuccessfully mating with his unwilling partner, the male dismounted and left, clearly disgusted, even going so far as to give her the stinkeye and partially step on her. If I spoke tortoise, I would have said: “It’s alright buddy, we’ve all been there. Get ’em next time tiger.” Since I don’t speak tortoise, I took a bunch of photos and laughed a lot.
You may turn off the Eric Carmen now if you like.
With the display of tortoise sexuality now anticlimactically concluded, we left for the dock to embark on a two-hour boat ride to the island of Isabela. As we waited for the navy to iron out some bureaucratic issue, I wandered around the dock, where there were plenty more iguanas, seals, and birds.
After lunch at the lodge on Isabela, we went on a bay tour that included bird-watching from the water taxi, iguana and shark-watching while on foot, and more snorkeling. We saw some penguins and blue-footed boobies from the boat, but we didn’t get close enough for me to get any worthwhile shots. While some of us were snorkeling, a single penguin stood stoically on the rocks by the water, intently studying the ominous storm clouds on the horizon, so I consider that mental snapshot a win.
In a small, natural channel bounded by tall rock walls, we saw a few white-tipped reef sharks. Most were resting, but a couple swam about.
The rest of our hike meandered through lichen-covered lava fields, where we saw lots of marine iguanas, including one that was a bit past its prime.
The evening on Isabela was perhaps the most pleasant and relaxing of all the nights. The lodge had several hammocks strung up to palm trees, the beach in front of the lodge was gorgeous, there was a bar at the end of the pier only a short walk away, and the breeze coming off the water was cool and strong enough that I could sleep with the windows open and no air conditioning. One of life’s little joys is falling asleep and waking up to the sounds of crashing waves and the wind blowing through palm trees.