Yesterday we packed up our cozy little house on the island of Santa Cruz.  The remainder of our time in the Galapagos (except for the last night, when we’ll be back on Santa Cruz for proximity to the airport) will be spent on Isabela, the largest of the islands in the Galapagos.  There are a couple of cool things I noticed about Isabela when looking at it on a map:  (1) It looks like a seahorse, and (2) the equator cuts through the northern end, right through the seahorse’s head.

We had to be at the dock by 1:30, so the first part of our day was spent packing, reading, and attempting to eat all the food we had left over.  (They are very worried about invasive pests here, and you’re not allowed to bring any kind of fresh foods into the Galapagos, or even from island to island.  Our bags were searched and tagged at the port.)

One challenge to our packing is that a substantial portion of our clothing is damp.  It’s not all that hot here — I would say most of the time the temperature is in the 70s — but it’s very humid and nothing ever dries.  The towels that we’ve been bringing on our beach and snorkeling trips have been in a perennial state of dampness ever since day 1, despite our dutifully hanging them up each day when we get home.  Bob even set up our little travel clothesline in the yard, but still no luck.  (The day before yesterday, when we went to the beach, there was a stone wall in the hot sun, and I spread out the towels as soon as we got there.  I carefully turned them around every so often, and by a couple of hours later, they were actually approaching dryness!  This gave me a great sense of accomplishment, until the children ran out of the water and grabbed them.  My first impulse was to tell them they COULD NOT use the towels, so we could keep them dry — but then I had to admit to myself that that was crazy talk.)

A good omen upon our arrival in Isabela

We were somewhat apprehensive about the boat ride.  It’s a two-hour trek through often-rough seas, and I’ve read descriptions about the discomfort and seasickness that it often entails.  We dutifully took our pills that were hopefully something like Dramamine (assuming we’d accurately communicated our need to the lady at the pharmacy, who kindly sold us as many pills as we wanted for 25 cents apiece).  The small boat was full, with an enclosed area with two benches along the side where we all sat, shoulder to shoulder and with barely space to walk between our knees.  I couldn’t help thinking about how unpleasant things would become if ANYONE on the boat felt the need to vomit.  This feeling grew as the young American woman across from us fished through her backpack, which appeared to be loaded with empty beer bottles, and she and her friends began swigging from a bottle of liquor called “100 fuegos” (“100 fires”).

Lava rock that solidified while still flowing

At least, we thought as we hopped onto the boat at 2pm sharp, we’d finally broken the curse of delays that has plagued just about every form of transport that we’ve taken in the last week.  And then we waited.  Alas, there was yet another mysterious problem with “paperwork” and it was 45 minutes of sitting in the rocking boat before we could even leave the harbor.  (Another inconvenience of Isabela is that there’s no ATM on the island, and credit cards are generally not accepted, so Bob and I were each carrying hundreds of dollars in cash to pay for all our tours, food, transport, etc. for the next six days.)

The trip went as well as could be expected, all things considered,  No one threw up, though at the end one of the other passengers commented on how green I looked.  The hopefully-Dramamine pills made us all sleepy, but it was impossible to really sleep on the constantly-bouncing boat.  I had to spend the whole trip either staring at the horizon or with my eyes closed, and was thus not able to carry on a conversation with anyone in my family.  Other passengers said they saw dolphins and a whale, but sadly I missed all of these.

Marine iguana tracks

It’s already worth it, though, because Isabela was delightful from the get-go.  Standing on the dock waiting for our luggage, we were surrounded by beautiful turquoise water lapping against white sand beaches, backed by mangroves growing out of solidified lava.  Sea lions frolicked in the shallow waters beneath us, and turtles and a ray swam by.  In the distance rose high mountains, Isabela’s still-active volcano.  The roads here are made of sand and the vibe is laid-back and beachy, reminding us instantly of Caye Caulker in Belize.  Unlike Puerto Ayora’s downtown, which is a harbor, Puerto Villamil on Isabela is lined with a miles-long white beach, punctuated with black lava rocks.

I wasn’t able to find a house for us here like I had in Puerto Ayora (possibly because this town is much smaller and sleepier, and possibly because I waited until the last minute because we weren’t sure of our plans), so we’ll be living in a single room, without a kitchen for the next six days.  On the other hand, this is our view:

Having ventured into town for dinner in one of the al fresco restaurants lining the mail square, we’re back in our room, with the roar of the surf coming in through the windows to lull us to sleep.  Tomorrow we hope to find a couple of animals we haven’t seen yet: flamingos and penguins!

We were excited to find this restaurant, where the fixed price menu of $7 included soup, choice of  entree, juice, and even a little piece of banana bread for dessert.