The Galapagos Islands by Brian D. McLaren

Author:Brian D. McLaren [McLaren, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-5064-4826-8
Publisher: Fortress Press
Published: 2019-08-24T16:00:00+00:00

I wish you could come here and rest a year in the simple unmingled love fountains of God. You would then return with fresh truth gathered and absorbed from pines and waters and deep singing winds, and you would find that they all sang of fountain love just as did Jesus Christ and all of pure God manifest in whatever form.

—John Muir (adapted)

As we enjoy the views and the breeze at the summit, Billy tells us another land iguana success story from Baltra, the island where most inbound air travelers land and from which we will depart the next day. Iguanas were known to live in large numbers there during a scientific survey in 1932. For some reason unknown today, those scientists took several Baltra iguanas and released them on a nearby island, North Seymour, that had no iguanas.

During World War II, Baltra, already an Ecuadorian naval base, became a major military base from which Allied forces protected the Panama Canal. Not surprisingly, soldiers found the land iguanas tasty to eat or an easy target for shooting practice. By the end of the war, the Baltra population was extinct. In 1965, scientists from the newly formed CDRS visited the Seymour population. The animals were thriving, but they had no successful reproduction. As with the Dragon Hill iguanas, they brought the survivors to CDRS and they began reproducing. About fourteen years ago, CDRS and the Ecuadorian Navy reached an agreement to protect the animals, so they were reintroduced to Baltra. Now, the population has grown to over a thousand. Some of the original animals that were removed in 1932 are still alive, demonstrating the iguana’s impressive longevity.

We return to the beach, and while waiting for our dinghies, we walk along the water’s edge, savoring our last few moments in the Galápagos wild. I take some video of a sea turtle swimming in the clear cove shallows. Suddenly a blue-footed booby drops behind him in a vertical dive into the sea to feed. The bird disappears for a full three seconds and then pops up like a submerged beach ball and flies away, presumably with dinner in its beak.

I have been hoping to capture that sight since the day of my arrival, and now I get it by accident at the last minute, with a sea turtle in the foreground as a bonus.

During our last dinner together, we share toasts, thanks, and lots of laughter. We each get our picture taken with the crew, which gives us a chance to give them envelopes (provided to us by Billy) that contain our tips. (Most travelers give ten to twenty dollars per traveler per day, to be divided between the guide and the crew.)

I end up at a table with three other men, the first time we have segregated by gender during the trip. We get into a deep conversation about a book read by one of our number called Bullshit Jobs: A Theory, by David Graeber. It leads us to talk about the meaning of work, the meaning of money, the meaning of life, and the future of humanity.

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