Climbing The Equator

by Neville Shulman

  All the monkey varieties live in the trees and will only leave their sanctuary to cross an open space or if they spot some readily available food. You certainly don’t need to ask why the howler monkey is so named, after spending time listening to them going on hour after hour. It can be heard up to five kilometres away, that’s some howl! There are also the tiny marmosets and tamarins that have the faces of miniature lions on tiny monkey bodies and are less afraid of contact, as they have learned over time they are not generally hunted as being hardly one mouthful. They are no howlers of course and can only chirp or whistle, making almost inaudible tiny sounds.

  On the páramos as well as elsewhere there are also three species of deer, puma, and the smallest bear in the world, the endangered spectacled bear, so named because of the lightly-coloured eye patches it has over its black facial hair. Its body is also mostly black, although sometimes brown and is dappled white. It’s the only bear in Ecuador and weighs around 80 kilograms. Its paws have very powerful claws, used for climbing trees where they build platforms of branches to rest up and think where to bear next.

  The llama (pronounced yama) is a typical South American animal and is recognised the world over for its woolly and shaggy appeal. In fact they have started to be exported all over the world and even in Britain there are also llama farms.

  The rainforest creatures are still so mysterious in many ways and research into their habits and behaviour patterns should be undertaken before their numbers decline any further, provided of course that the research does not cause harm of hasten this decline. Many indigenous Indian tribes believe in the powers of the jungle and rainforest animals and there are many examples of the ‘sixth sense’ which creatures in many parts of the world are thought to possess. It is often conjectured that animals can predict imminent danger and can then react to save their lives, with their actions helping to forewarn humans. Following the great loss of life caused by the 2004 tsunami in Asia there were several reports of animals acting strangely there before it occurred, or even fleeing to higher ground. There were also several reports of flocks of birds flying inland on the morning of the disaster. Whether the animals anticipated the tsunami, heard the killer waves before they could be seen, were reacting to underground vibrations or changes in the magnetic forces cannot be known, but it’s certainly a field well worth investigating further. At the time of the large earthquake in Turkey in August 1999, near the Sea of Marmara, there were advance reports of dogs howling for many hours before the earthquake struck. Also in the Alps there have been continuing reports of animals running away from valleys before an avalanche strikes. Over 2,000 years ago (373 BC) there was a report of rats and other creatures deserting the Greek city of Helice, just hours before an earthquake struck the city.

  In the lagoons attaching to the Napo and Aguarico Rivers there are very powerful manatees that no other creature would dare attack. The Amazonas area in this region supports over 600 species of fish and more than 250 species of reptiles and amphibians. There are considerable numbers of different species of fish in the rivers and lakes, and the indigenous Indians are expert fisherman, whether spearing, netting or the slower, less aggressive way of casting rod to water and just waiting. Indigenous Indians can be extremely patient. The species to avoid are the stingrays and the electric eels, both of which can give you a shocking time.

  The piranha fish do not totally deserve their very harsh reputations, inspired in no small part by the James Bond film, Dr. No, which involves Sean Connery being threatened with being cast into a tank full of hungry piranhas. Piranhas in fact only attack and bite when they are very hungry or cornered, otherwise it is even safe to swim amongst them. Just take some sensible precautions (like feeding them first).

  Also in these waters there are cuttlefish. The male is very jealous and protective of its female and does not allow any other male cuttlefish to approach her. In order to circumvent this, another male cuttlefish will adjust its skin colour to a female tone and pretend to be about to lay eggs. This enables it to sidle up to the female and actually fertilise her without arousing any suspicion and the female, for whatever the reason is, doesn’t give the game away. Another interesting fish is the leaf fish, which has the cunning ploy of pretending to be a dead leaf as it floats in the river, no doubt hoping there isn’t a leaf-eating bird about.

  Although the bird species seem at first glance to be inexhaustible, there are some extremely alarming statistics to contemplate. It is predicted that out of the 9,787 known bird species (with 129 already now extinct), approximately 10 per cent will vanish by 2100 and a further 15 per cent will be on the brink of extinction. If we allow the environment to deteriorate only slightly faster, those frightening statistics could leap to 14 per cent vanishing and 25 per cent pushed to the brink of extinction. The bird that has recently become extinct in the Amazonas vicinity is the yellow-eared parrot. That’s one too many.

  In November 2004 3,000 more animals and plants were added to the Red List of endangered organisms by the World Conservation Union, which now has 15,589 organisms at risk of extinction. Its findings make terrifying reading; one in eight bird species are under threat, one in four mammals, one in three amphibians and close to half the species of tortoises and turtles. The current escalation in loss of bird species, for which we must take responsibility in our industrialised societies, is all the more apparent when it is understood that since 1500 up to this last 30 years, there were only 1.3 per cent bird species lost. There are many knock-on effects from the loss of huge numbers of birds, which are not always apparent. Such effects include vast increases in rodents and feral dogs that are then responsible for spreading diseases like Lyme disease, and causing rising incidences of rabies. Exciting and important news is the recent announcement that the genetic codes of the world’s ten million species are now to be stored in a DNA barcode library, the work planned to be completed by 2010. This will also enable new species to be catalogued very easily and clarified into which organism they actually belong. This will be of great assistance in trying to stem the loss of any species.

  We inherit the earth and all that lives on it, for our children and our grandchildren, and we are all guilty of colossal neglect if we allow any creatures to vanish. It’s so essential for all of us to assume more responsibility for our actions, before it is too late.

  CHAPTER 17

  GALAPAGOS STORIES

  Now it’s my time to leave the Ecuadorian mainland and journey across the Pacific Ocean to reach the fabled Galapagos. I feel very excited to travel to the islands Charles Darwin reached and from where he developed his theory of natural selection. To paraphrase and adopt some words of the song by the singer and film star, Harry Belafonte, ‘these are the islands in the sun, where life has begun.’ The Galapagos Islands, straddling the Equator line, are definitely in the sun, and the many endemic creatures to be found here in many ways represent the beginnings of life and as such pay homage both to creation and evolution. The islands were formed approximately five million years ago as the peaks of volcanoes during a series of eruptions, this being one of the most active volcanic regions in the world. They were first ‘discovered’ accidentally in 1535 by the Bishop of Panama when his ship was blown off course.

  Each island has some amazing species and unique features, and my island hopping is a thrill. Going ashore often involves me in a wet landing, but ‘getting your feet wet’ in the name of exploration and discovery is a small and acceptable price to pay in order to ‘get close up and personal’ with the incredible array of Nature’s fauna and flora found on these wonderful islands. The pirate and navigator, William Ambrose Cowley, in 1684 prepared the first charts, choosing English names for each island with most islands now being known by two or more names, both in Spanish and in English.

  Baltra (South Seymour). My flight in is from Mariscal Sucre Airport in Quito, with a stopover in Guayyaquil to arrive at Baltra, my first port of call. It is a very tiny island and is still the major entry point into the Ar
chipelago for most travellers. Originally it had the only airport, built by blasting into the rock, as part of the base created by the United States during World War Two, after the assault on Pearl Harbour. It was agreed that the Americans would be allowed to station here in order to protect the Panama Canal from any surprise attack and was handed back after the war ended with Baltra gaining a very useable airport under the control of the Ecuadorian Air Force. There is now also an airport on Isabela, and San Cristobal has an airstrip. There are ferry services to the port of Puerto Ayora and access crossing the Itabaca Channel leading over to Santa Cruz. Although an island in its own right, the even smaller island of Mosquera lies in the channel between Baltra and North Seymour and is primarily sand coral packed with sea lions. After a quick visit to listen to their energetic barking I transfer to a small sail yacht, the Samba and prepare to dance my way through as many islands as I can, starting with Santa Cruz.

  Santa Cruz (Indefatigable). Its capital is Puerto Ayora, the largest town and the port for most vessels arriving on a trading basis as well as hosting the large work force dealing with visiting scientists, international travellers as well as the needs of those living on other islands. Santa Cruz is considered the Archipelago’s centre, has a large dormant volcano reaching to 864 metres and is the second largest island. Volcanic activity last took place about a million and a half years ago and as witnesses to that there are two huge holes formed after the collapse of a magma chamber, known as Media Luna and Los Gemelos. Santa Cruz has a somewhat chequered past, as the original Norwegian inhabitants founding Puerto Ayora were encouraged to settle there in the 1920s by false promises of easy wealth and prospects of starting gold and diamond mines. They all lost their investments and savings and eventually their hope.

  My first visit selected naturally has to be to the Charles Darwin Research Station. It was founded here in 1959 and is where the continuing research into the habits and breeding of the giant tortoises is carried out. Scientists travel from all over the world to visit and work at the Station, as well as to participate in the research programmes. I am first of all shown the pens that are used for rearing the giant tortoises and can only admire a number of the ‘baby’ or miniature giants still waiting to grow up. That can take very many years, and all those tortoises there now will probably outlive me and all those presently caring for them. This dedicated nurturing should always be thought of in the same way as our planting new trees; it’s for the future, theirs and ours, and particularly for those generations not yet even thought of. It must be our way of creating part of the natural and geographical history of the future.

  The conservation head of the Darwin Station is Graham Watkins, and he has the enormous responsibility of trying to protect the species of the islands. It’s a delicate balance between funding research, promoting tourism and working with the islanders. I am introduced to Lonesome George, the last surviving giant tortoise of Pinta Island, brought over in 1971 to Santa Cruz. He wanders around near the Station, probably pining for the old days and remembering his former loves. George must have a lot to remember. They keep trying to pair him up with new dates but George is very choosy and maybe he just won’t mate again or has forgotten how to.

  Mating between tortoises is, as you might imagine, a complicated business and doesn’t seem to be enjoyed by either party, but they are driven by a primeval urge that usually has to be satisfied. These creatures are not communicative normally but at mating time the male will signal something, we can only conjecture what, by grunting on a fairly continuous basis, as if he is in constant pain. The real pain is about to follow. The coupling can take an hour or longer and I was allowed to watch one such encounter (in the name of scientific research of course). I can only describe it as astounding, but it made me feel sorry for both the male and the female equally. In brief, the male tortoise has to mount the female from behind and in trying to achieve his purpose he strains every sinew, so that it looks as if he’s about to collapse with a heart attack at any moment. After the event takes place, the female carries the male sperm for several months before fertilisation occurs.

  This is also tough boot country, as I have to walk for long distances to experience much of the fauna in its natural surroundings. Whilst trekking across the island I enter some giant cacti fields. It is also a particular delight to find the native passionflower (pasiflora) growing so profusely, and it seems to be providing a welcome landing and feeding base for the carpenter bee as well as several other insects homing all along the stems. Travelling for about six kilometres north out of Puerto Ayora I eventually reach the cattle village of Bellavista (Beautiful View) where there are avocado and papaya growing amongst the elephant grasses (but no elephants!). A further nine kilometres trek on from Bellavista, I arrive at the Santa Rosa orchards and pass (forgive me for picking one apple) through them to the Chato Tortoise Reserve, at the south-west of Santa Cruz, where there are many living in the wild. It’s a world of difference to the penned ones although I do wonder whether a tortoise of whatever size can ever be considered really wild or whether frisky would be a more appropriate adjective.

  Isabela (Albemarle). This is by far the largest island and is especially important to visit as it straddles the Equator Line at its northern end, enabling me to again stand with one foot in the Northern Hemisphere and one in the Southern Hemisphere. Reaching the water’s edge I perform this same trick in the Pacific Ocean and am joined by a shoal of tiny fish that also cross Hemispheres around my feet.

  Isabela is a very large lady, covering nearly 4,600 square kilometres, 60 per cent of the total area of the Galapagos and having six large volcanoes spread across it, five still active. I am told that sometimes two or more erupt at the same time, with each spewing igneous material such as burning basalt into the air, running as molten lavas down the hillsides; an awesome sight. These periodic flames bursting from the centre of the craters can either flow inwards, or manoeuvre their way down to the sea to create volcanic ‘tuffs’. These provide further sanctuaries for more marine life, each time helping to change the shape and contour not only of the volcano but the island itself. I wait for an eruption to occur. Unfortunately it doesn’t happen on my watch, although I feel sure that as soon as my back is turned there will be a fireworks display.

  Approximately in the centre of the island are the cliffs of Tagus Cove, several of which are signed and etched with names of ships going back hundreds of years and are very helpful to the study and history of pirating in this region. It’s fascinating to see this record at first hand, and I note a few names and dates have been added from the 1930s when the yachts of many millionaires (back when a million really meant something) dropped anchor for a day or two whilst on their ocean going jaunts. Some might consider them as the pirates of modern times, but I couldn’t possibly comment. South of Tagus is Urvina Bay, where in 1954 a huge slab of reef was upended and pushed out of the water leaving exposed the skeletons and remains of the sea creatures taken with it. It’s a clear illustration of the potential power of any sudden movement by the tectonic forces. It seems to be an ideal landing spot, but I completely misjudge the steepness of the beach and am immediately up to my waist in the ocean before realising. I wade ashore holding my pack above my head, as if surrendering, but the iguanas are not interested in taking prisoners and quickly ignore me, raising their heads towards the sun in a prehistoric pose that doesn’t allow for any intrusion.

  As a reminder of the darker side of life, Isabela is also the island with the infamous ‘Wall of Tears’, so named after the then President of Ecuador agreed to the creation of the infamous penal colony which was to house some 300 prisoners. The wall was the ‘brainwave’ of the director of the penal colony, Velasco Ibarra, who arranged for it to be built and then unbuilt by the prisoners of the penal colony established there. They were forced to construct a wall without cement and after laboriously building it were then made to unpick the stones, level it and then start the process all over again. Many prisoners died as a resu
lt of the inhumane treatment meted out to them and it was finally closed for good in 1959.

  Fernandina (Narborough). I was particularly keen to visit this island as it has had no introduced creatures and is therefore considered the largest pristine island in the world. It also has the greatest number of flightless cormorants – the rarest seabird in the world. This was my first encounter with this wonder of the bird world, and it lived up to all my expectations. The cormorants, having ‘traded’ their ability to fly for an incredible diving ability, have very large bodies and feet and find it difficult to walk. Certainly the term ‘waddle’ could have been invented for them, and their ‘rock hopping’ was fascinating to watch. They are really only comfortable keeping close to the shoreline, and build their nests just above the high water mark so that they can get back into the water at the earliest opportunity. It’s not easy for males or females to gallivant so they more or less share nest duties equally. Although their wings have shortened, as far as I can see they seem to prefer to keep them stretched, so giving the impression they are about to launch into flight.