Slight hangover aside, I woke reasonably refreshed, having dragged my mattress onto the floor during the night to escape the creaking woodwork. With feet pointing towards the swell, rocking back and forth was a lot easier to cope with than rolling side to side. If only I´d figured this out from the beginning!
Six of us were leaving the boat today, and although Dan and I were staying in Puerto Ayora for two more nights, the other four had a plane to catch, making it necessary for an early start for everyone.
We´d been given an envelope to place our tips in for the crew and one for the guide, and in our rooms an information sheet outlined what passengers were expected to tip. This system really had me angry and at the risk of raising the ire of some nationalities in particular, I´ll elaborate a little (maybe rant is a more precise term).
Firstly, though we had gotten a good deal, we were still paying exorbitant prices for the privilege of visiting Galapagos and in my view, the majority of this was going straight into the pockets of rich, most likely foreign-owned tour companies. National park fees were paid separately, and after factoring in operating costs, I still thought that companies must be making a fair chunk. By propagating a ´pseudo´voluntary tipping system, the companies are basically indicating that they are too greedy to pay their crew decent wages, and are relying on the generosity of tourists to subsidise this. No doubt the implementation of this system was assisted by tourists visiting from countries where tipping is the norm due to a low minimum wage. In my view, by continuing this trend, it is only supporting the decision of tour companies to double dip. It also serves as no incentive for crew to provide good service if a tip is basically guaranteed. As one gentleman told me in a study he had read, people that are used to tipping will generally tip the same amount every time regardless of the level of service. I have no problem giving credit for good service but when there is a sheet in my room outlining what I am expected to tip, then I have problems. In the end, I figured an act of defiance on my part would do little to change things, and the crew could probably really use the money so I caved in and tipped them.
Taking our last Panda ride in from the Queen of Galapagos, we had a rather rushed tour of the Charles Darwin Research Station, managed a glimpse of the famous residentLonesome George (the last known survivor of the Pinta Island Tortoise species), and were peremptorily kicked out of the Queen of the Galapagos group. Tour over!
Wincing at the seemingly ten-fold increase in weight of our backpacks (they had laid dormant for the last five days), we trudged off along the streets of Puerto Ayora in search of a decent hostel.
Decent may be an overstatement, but aside from the incessant mosquito attacks, the Hostel Salinas was at least a place to rest our boat-weary bodies. After some recuperation, we hired bikes for the afternoon and cruised around to Tortuga bay, only to realise that bikes could go no further than the front entrance. Under a sweltering sun, we trekked along the lizard-lined pathway, with enormous cacti dominating the surrounding brush. After a twenty or so minute walk, we finally reached the golden shores of Tortuga Bay, and it was certainly worth the wait. Though there was intermittent cloud, the water was still an inviting tropical aqua. The water temperature was amazing, and apart from a couple of surfers the place was deserted. It took a strong force of will to drag myself out of the water and trudge back up the seemingly endless path, to the park entrance. Though we had hired our bikes for 3 hours, we’d ridden them for only 15 minutes and now had about half an hour to return them. Speeding our way down through the streets of Puerto Ayora, we rode along past the port and saw our former crew from Queen of the Galapagos looking after the pangas while the group was off on their afternoon volcano adventure. We did a few more laps of the town before returning the bikes and setting out for happy hour and dinner at The Rock, an unavoidable tourist haunt that’s popular with the dive crews. Although it was unashamedly touristy, the burgers were great and the place was always packed with a lively atmosphere.
Enjoying my first night on dry land, I slept late the next day while Dan went off on a dive tour, then made my way back over to Tortuga bay for an even more stunning day at the beach. With the sun belting down, and the beach all but deserted, it probably solidified itself in my mind as perhaps the most beautiful beach I have ever visited and mind you, I have visited plenty of beaches around the world and don’t make this statement lightly!
Enthralled in the perfectly crystal clear waters, I spent the better part of the day, walking the shore and catching waves, until the noticeable onset of sunburn forced me to seek some indoor respite. After Dan returned from his dive, having been lucky enough to see some hammerhead sharks, we met up with some of his fellow divers for some beers and then onwards for dinner. A storm had swept in, and the rain was absolutely bucketing down, so we were forced to endure another night cap or two at the Rock before turning in.
In drizzling conditions, we took an early taxi ute the next day out to the airport and ferried across to Isla Baltra, an island of rock, where the airport was located, for our flight back to Quito. Although we had become used to barren landscapes in Galapagos, Baltra, without a tree in sight was pushing these limits, and it was no wonder soldiers stationed there during World War II had felt so isolated. The cloudy weather was perfect for our departure, and a welcome respite after such a sun-soaked week. Flying away from that strange little cluster of islands, I knew that I’d be scrolling through the pictures I’d taken for years to come.