Galapagos: 3 - 10 June

Going to the Galapagos is a bit like going back to biology class at school with a bit of geography thrown in. You spend all week looking at "endemic species" and hearing about "natural selection" and "tectonic plates".


But it is a thousand times richer experience than anything you can learn in the classroom. In fact, it's more like being in a giant laboratory. The animals are completely fearless. As you walk up to a pair of nesting blue-footed boobies (and before you ask, these boobies have nothing in common with the human counterpart) they simply stare at you and, then mistaking you for part of the landscape, they ignore you. And so, the Galapagos offers unparalleled opportunities to get up-close-and-personal with the wildlife, making even the most seasoned naturalist-paparazzi salivate.


We spent a week aboard M/V Eric, a 60ft yacht with twenty passengers, eight crew, and two naturalists. We cruised through the night from island to island making landings in pangas (dinghies) during the day to meet the birds, lizards, snakes and other exotic mammals. Snorkeling was also on the menu. With this immense buffet of on-land and in-sea wildlife, I was soon gorging my way to obesity.

The climate in the Galapagos is cold - a brisk 23C, mainly cloudy, with a cool breeze. This is because the cold Humboldt current rises from Antarctica bringing nutrient rich waters to the Galapagos where this icy stream of water meets the warm tropical Panamanian current. The result is an explosion of marine and wild life that is both odd and fascinating. Once I saw marine turtles gracefully grazing on sea grass whilst jet-propelled Galapagos penguins zipped by. It also means that the water is cold, very cold. The Liverpudlian on our boat joked that he could tell how cold the water was by the number of expletives that came out of my mouth after I'd flipped over the side of the panga.

The big schools of tropical and pelagic fish are dazzling in their fluorescent hues, shiny silvers and blues. But it was the sea lion pups who stole the show. They came out to play with the snorkelers, twirling and flipping all around us. They blew bubbles at us underwater, tugged at our flippers with their teeth, and played an elaborate game a chicken - charging at us and then pulling away at the last possible moment. Exhausted they returned to the beach to nuzzle up to their mothers and dry their sleek fur coats.

Here is an aside on Dad's t-shirt collection: it's like a brochure for exotic holidays. On Monday, the puffin from the Shetland Islands is emblazoned against the dark green of his chest. On Tuesday, a subtle "Luang Prabang" accompanies the Lao flag. Wednesday is a grey number with Concordia Hütte 2850m in red Coca-Cola script. Thursday has just become a blue-green Galapagos National Park number. If he continues at this rate, by the time he reaches 70 it will take many weeks of his wardrobe to see all the places he has conquered, uh, I mean travelled to.