It was very difficult. Darwin had a great deal of knowledge on every aspect of the Galápagos archipelago, whether concerning its geology, its flora, its fauna or its conservation, and he also had a desire to impart as much of this information to his guests as possible – irrespective of the power of the sun. Furthermore, as would become apparent over the next two weeks, most of the trails on the visitor sites are not overlong, and without stopping for lectures on the way, they would be completed in far less than the two or so hours that they were designed to take. So, it would be grossly unfair to find any genuine fault with Darwin’s frequent didactic pauses – other than they often seemed to ignore what was going on around him. Because, as will be reported, Galápagos wildlife is extremely unfazed by the presence of humans and is therefore often in sight or almost underfoot. But even when birds and animals were no more than feet away – and being entirely fascinating – Darwin seemed reluctant to even interrupt his address. It was a little, thought Brian, like visiting some wonderful art gallery, with a guide who was eager to impart all he knew about a series of famous artists – but who was somewhat unconcerned with their works on display. There again, in Darwin’s situation, Brian would probably have done the same, albeit he might have set up his soapbox in a location where his audience could have found just a little bit of shade. Not that this would have been easy on his first pitch…
This was the beach, where there was no prospect of shade whatsoever, and where, because of the reflecting power of the sand, the heat was ‘excessive to fierce’ and at risk of becoming ‘extreme’. Brian simply streamed as he stood and listened to Darwin’s dissertation on fish, and he wanted nothing more than to at least get off the sand. But that wasn’t going to happen any time soon, and in the meantime he decided to study what was a great deal easier to see than any of those translucent fish in the shallows, and this was the first (for him) real-life manifestation of marine iguanas!
They weren’t around in large numbers, but they were around and obvious, and they all had a very distinct demeanour, one that somehow put Brian in mind of Karl Lagerfeld, that well-known doyen of the fashion world. It wasn’t, of course, that these largely black and grey sea-going lizards had a great deal in common, physically, with Mr Lagerfeld – other than possibly in the mouth department – but there was just something about them that prompted their unlikely connection with that particular designer of frocks. Brian never really worked it out, but it could have been something to do with the iguanas’ stiffness, their lack of a discernible expression, their apparent indifference to the world around them and their… well, their slightly ‘alien aura’. Anyway, they were quite a thing, and they took Brian’s mind off his melting right up until it was time to leave the beach and head off inland.
This inland was an expanse of scrub-covered Santa Cruz, rising, in the distance, to the ‘Dragon Hill’ itself, a modest scrub-covered hillock that Brian was already hoping would be out of bounds and therefore not part of their peregrination. Walking on level ground in this heat, he could cope with. Anything involving an upward incline might be more of a problem.
Well, in the event, he had to cope with only a gentle climb and Dragon Hill remained safely in the distance. In fact, the only challenges on the Nature-seekers’ two-hour expedition – other than the incessant heat – were a few puddles as they skirted an inland lagoon and what would become a common feature of their Galápagos rambles: the unevenness of the paths. These challenges, they could easily cope with, and they could thereby devote all the time they needed to observing the waders and waterbirds that were on the lagoon – and the Galápagos ‘specials’ that were close to the path. Included in these were some incredibly unbothered (Galápagos) flycatchers and some even more unbothered (Galápagos) mockingbirds. In fact, these mockingbirds were so unbothered – and so audacious – that, if one stood still for just a little time, they were quite likely to peck at one’s shoes in search of something to eat. They were like starlings on speed.
They certainly made themselves obvious on Darwin’s third lecture spot (or was it his fourth?). Here they hopped around between the Nature-seekers – as a number of the Nature-seekers, in search of some relief from the sun, half-crouched beneath some tallish scrub. And again there were the distractions, this time in the form of even more mockingbirds, more flycatchers (sometimes just inches away) – and then the ponderous approach of a couple of land iguanas.
These guys, unlike the marine iguanas, did not put Brian in mind of any representative of the fashion industry – probably because they were the antithesis of ‘thin’. At more than three feet long and weighing maybe twenty pounds, these rather corpulent yellow-brown lizards were more reminiscent of overfed Labradors than they were of skeletal designers and models, and they certainly didn’t have a catwalk gait. Instead, they waddled and quite often they didn’t move at all. In fact, it took them an inordinate amount of time to get from any A to any B, and any C was simply out of the question. This, combined with their obvious ‘limited intellect’, made Brian think that he would never live to witness a ‘guide-land-iguanas for the blind appeal’. Not only would these creatures find even the rudiments of guiding the blind well beyond them, but unlike all those Labradors who could guide their owners to the local Greggs within minutes, they, even if they ever learnt how to, would take several weeks to do it. That said, they were pretty impressive, and they certainly looked at home in their Galápagos environment. Which is more than could be said for a still-sweating Brian. Yes, it was becoming quite clear. ‘Glowing’ and mild perspiration would both be a rare experience on these Galápagos hikes, and copious sweating – together with constituting an incongruous sight in this archipelago’s unique environment – would be the order of the day.
There were, of course, other features of this Dragon Hill excursion, including erudite expositions on the flora, but in all honesty, towards its end, Brian’s focus on Darwin and on what was around him was rather overtaken by his thoughts concerning the quite admirable skills of brewers, and particularly of those who specialised in the brewing of lager. It was no less than heresy, really, but Brian couldn’t help himself. He was hot, tired and in need of a drink, and when the Dragon Hill path led his party back to the beach, he was definitely not that enthusiastic for another of Darwin’s lectures…
However, this one proved to be very short. It merely concerned a warning about the perils of boarding the pangas again, and an announcement. And this announcement was that when all the Nature-seekers were back on board the Beluga, there would be a safety drill. This would involve the sounding of the boat’s alarm just five minutes after their return to the vessel, whereupon all the boat’s passengers would be required to collect the emergency lifejackets that were stowed in their cabins and then immediately gather at the front of the vessel (on the main deck where it narrowed to a point), there to receive further instructions. And quite right too, thought Brian. No point in not knowing where to spend one’s final minutes in the event of an unscheduled sinking…
So… when, back on board, the alarm went off as scheduled, and Brian and Sandra grabbed their lifejackets and made off immediately for the Beluga’s prow, and when they arrived there, so too did an almost full complement of the Beluga’s passengers and crew. But only an almost full complement, not a completely full complement. Because two of the Nature-seekers were missing.
They were still missing after a full minute, and still missing after a full three minutes, and incredibly still after a full five minutes. And their identity was not a secret. It was Rick and Delia, a married couple who had been friends of Brian and Sandra for years and who now occupied that other window-abundant cabin on the main deck, next to their own. Why they hadn’t arrived with the others was a complete mystery. Were they, pondered Brian, the subjects of an alien abduction? Had they perhaps been kidnapped by (long-range) Somali pirates? Or had they suffered an unexpected attack of agoraphobia, which meant they now couldn’t countenance l
eaving their bijou accommodation? Or just possibly, had they completely forgotten about the safety drill, returned to their cabin and there engaged in the noisy process of showering and so failed to hear the alarm?
Well, as reported by Delia, when she finally made it to the assembly point, it was this latter reason. Indeed Rick was still in the shower, which is why it was a full ten minutes after the alarm had been sounded before he had joined his fellow sinking friends – there to receive a round of applause. That said, he would have been there a little sooner had he not met one of the crew on his first departure from his cabin, who had suggested to him that as it was just a drill and not the real thing, his appearance on the prow would be more welcome in a full set of clothes than it would be with just a towel around his waist. When this was made known to the gathering, nobody, including Delia, disagreed.
Well, unintentionally, Rick and Delia had now earned themselves the ‘slightly disorganised but essentially nice’ designation on the Beluga. Which meant that Brian would have to consider which designation he and Sandra should seek. He did this over that first longed-for lager in the bar, and he briefly considered the ‘opinionated but receptive’, the ‘reserved but approachable’, the ‘incisive but humorous’ and the ‘cool but not that cool’. However, he could not come to a decision, and he would just have to see where this first evening meal on the Beluga took him – and essentially play it by ear.
It took him – and Sandra – nowhere. Because at their table of six (with eight others on the other table), they had for company just Rick and Delia and Bill and Andrea. And Bill and Andrea were themselves busy going for the designation of ‘the odd ones out’. A little cruel this, but Andrea spoke only in spurts – and with giggles – and her husband, Bill (a retired submariner), spoke not in spurts or with giggles, but essentially without any sound. It was quite remarkable, but when he uttered any words, nothing much made it into the audible spectrum. It was as though he’d spent his life talking to dogs at some inaudible frequency or that he was now saving his larynx in case of some unspecified emergency. Like when he needed to attract the attention of a passing ship when the Beluga went down. Anyway, he and his wife were rather hard work, and whatever Brian and Sandra had done at the table, they could never have established for themselves anything as distinct as that ‘slightly disorganised but essentially nice’ classification that their friends had won so easily and without really trying.
Brian and Sandra agreed on this outcome when they were finally back in their cabin, after which Brian sought Sandra’s agreement on another matter, and this matter was the nature of her daily (intellectual) entertainment. He began this quest for her agreement by reminding her – casually – that on past holidays he had enlivened her evenings with such things as a review of the failings of certain countries and the merits of the Seven Deadly Sins, and then just as casually asking her whether ‘various interesting facts about the nations of South America’ might be a suitable choice for their current expedition.
‘What!?’ screeched Sandra, at a volume that must have been audible in the engine room. ‘You want…’
‘Well, I thought…’
‘You never think, Brian. You just do. I mean…’
‘So that’s OK then? And I thought, as we’re in the Galápagos, I’d start with Ecuador…’
Sandra looked livid. Or was that exasperation? Well, whatever it was, it seemed to make her Bill-like, and she failed with any further words. And before she could rectify this absence of a protest, Brian was onto his first pitch, talking about Ecuador’s president and the colour of his politics…
‘… yes, this chap, Rafael Correa, is definitely a little pink. He was one of Chavez’s buddies and he came to power promising to introduce popular social programmes at the expense of servicing debts, and well… at the expense of playing by international norms. So, for example, he declared the country’s international debt illegitimate and, by doing this, he did actually reduce the price of outstanding bonds by 60%…’
‘Outstanding,’ interjected Sandra.
‘Ah, but like all these lefties in charge of South American countries, he failed to understand real-world economics, something that you simply can’t afford to do when your economy is dependent on commodities, and particularly on oil. So even when you’ve mortgaged your country to the Chinese, by granting three million hectares of your Amazon rainforest to Chinese oil companies, you still get bitten in the bum – when the price of oil and of other commodities falls off a cliff. The result: the economy in a tailspin, up to three million Ecuadorians seeking work overseas, a systematic and hostile campaign against the country’s free press to silence dissent and the fall-back position of blaming the States for all your ills. In fact, the only funny thing that this guy has ever said is something that reflects his phobia of the US. And this was: “The only country in the world that won’t ever have a coup d’état is the US – as there is no US embassy in the US.”
‘Funny that, isn’t it?’
‘Not really,’ responded Sandra. ‘And neither is this lecture. You know, I think I’ve already had quite enough lectures for today.’
‘OK,’ conceded Brian. ‘But I want to make just one further point about this ever-so-virtuous president of Ecuador, and it’s one that’s not funny in the least…’
‘Which is?’ encouraged Sandra plaintively.
‘Which is that he fairly recently overturned a ban on the sale of shark fins. Although, of course, he went to great pains to stipulate that the only shark fins that could be sold were those caught ‘accidentally’ by artisan fishermen – without dwelling too long on how the authorities could possibly determine whether a shark had been caught deliberately or “accidentally”.’
‘You mean he is an absolute bastard who should be put against a wall and shot?’
‘Well,’ stuttered Brian, ‘I suppose you could put it like that. I was just going to say that, as far as I’m concerned, he’s the pits. As is anybody who conducts, condones or conspires in the killing of millions of sharks – just for their fins and just for all those execrable Chinese soup-drinkers, all of whom I sincerely hope end up choking to death on their fucking soup.’
‘Good,’ said Sandra. ‘It seems we’re agreed. And that presumably means you’ve done “Ecuador” and I can now get some sleep. And you can either go to sleep as well or you can contemplate the wisdom of regaling me with any more facts about the nations of South America, no matter how “interesting” they might be.’
This announcement drew to a conclusion this first day afloat, but sadly for Sandra it did nothing to dissuade Brian from his planned programme of ‘entertainments’. In fact, it did quite the contrary. Heck, Sandra had actually responded to his first brief dissertation, and without the use of a single profanity. It was a clear signal, he thought, that she was prepared, if not eager, for more of the same – in just about the same way that it is always crystal clear when a marine iguana is feeling a little bit on edge or even really rather tense…
3.
Brian and Sandra’s first night aboard the Beluga had been… illuminating. They had retired shortly after their evening meal, and as soon as they had settled down, the master of the Beluga had set off for their next destination, a small island to the south-east of Santa Cruz by the name of Santa Fe. This was to become standard practice: undertaking the longer elements of the journey around the Galápagos in the hours of darkness, thereby enabling the Beluga’s passengers to sleep and then to wake to find themselves at the site of their next on-shore expedition. Now, in this instance, the trip to Santa Fe took nearly three hours, and the Beluga was in position off the island just after one o’clock in the morning. Brian knew this because he had been awake for much of the voyage, and although he did finally get to sleep, he had then been awoken by the noise of the boat’s arrival at its mooring, involving, as it did, the dropping of an anchor and the shutting down of its engine.
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Now, what had kept both Brian and Sandra awake initially was a combination of the boat’s engine noise whilst underway – and the boat’s motion. This could not be ignored, because the boat rolled. Not, fortunately, through 360 degrees, or even worse, through 180 degrees, but ‘nautically’ to and fro along its bow-to-stern axis. Which meant that if one’s bed was on this same axis – as Brian and Sandra’s were – one rolled as well. And not just a little, but a lot. In a way, Brian had found it quite a pleasant sensation, but not one that his body would willingly recognise as conducive to sleep. Consequently, like Sandra, his body had needed to become acutely tired before it would willingly ignore both the motion of the vessel and the noise of its engine, and finally nod off. Until, that is, the motion and the noise both came to a halt…
Maybe Brian’s body would adapt. Maybe Sandra’s would as well. And soon they would both be sleeping through the Beluga’s gyrations and the dancing of its pistons without being aware of a thing. But right now, on this first morning after the first night, neither of them could claim to have had a peaceful night and ‘weary’ would be the entry in their log, along with ‘might as well get up and savour our situation’ – which is exactly what they did. And the first aspect of their situation that they savoured was the Beluga itself. Nobody else was up, so they had decided to have a proper look round.
The deck below theirs was essentially out of bounds, as this contained the five portholed passenger cabins, the engine room and the cramped crew’s quarters. So when they left their stern cabin they inspected just the bar area, with its padded seating and its table for eight, before moving through to the dining room, with its other table for eight and its coffee station. Beyond this was an extremely modest galley, and beyond that, a small map room and the bridge (with a closet at its rear that served as the captain’s cabin). Stairs at the side of the galley led to the upper deck, which hosted one further cabin – amidships and to one side – but which was otherwise open, as a sundeck at the rear and as a covered ‘flying bridge’ at the front. It was from here that Brian and Sandra now turned their attention from the boat itself to where the boat was moored. Because it was moored in heaven. And if it wasn’t heaven, then it was some corner of paradise or an outpost of dreamland. It was truly superb.
Absolutely Galápagos Page 3