Paradise Lost, Paradise Not Yet Regained

 

Paradise Lost, Paradise Not Yet Regained
by Lostalley

A shipwreck and John Milton’s epic seem hardly associated. But last Wednesday, they did. A cargo ship Floreana sank with more than 1,900 tons of goods, including 13,000 gallons of fuel and gas cylinders, off the coast of Galapagos Archipelago where the 19th Century British naturalist Charles Darwin conceived his theory of evolution and natural selection. Upon hearing the news, my heart dropped like an anchor. I know intimately the archipelago’s fragile ecosystem because I have been there. Ecuador declared a 180-day state of emergency to mitigate environmental risks to the pristine marine reserve and wildlife. It’s unclear whether any future tourism will be suspended. This is the fourth accident since 2014. Eco-tourism is a double-edge sword, generating more funds for preservation and education, yet more pollution and degradation, inevitably.

 

Last night, I dug out the travelogue of my Galapagos trip in April of 2012, as a solace. Unlike Darwin’s minute details, mine is just two paragraphs, “been there and done that” type of scribble. This seems an atrocious injustice to the actual experience. Well, I blame ferocious Galapagos mosquitos. They love me and expertly single me out from fellow humans. On hot and humid nights with no or dysfunctional air conditioning, under a broken mosquito net, exhausted, all I wanted was to sleep without disturbance. You got the picture. 

 

My travelogue--Take off from Quito airport for Galapagos, a UNESCO World Natural Heritage Site declared in 1978, 620 miles off the coast of continental Ecuador, 50,965 square miles in scope, roughly the size of New York State. Land on San Cristobal Island. Charles Darwin stayed here longer than other islands after jumping off the ship HMS Beagle in August, 1835. Shoes are sterilized at the customs. Island hopping by boat from April 7th to 18th. Profile of the islands visited: San Cristobal for beach and iguana; Floreana for wilderness(bigger and hungrier mosquitos); Isabela for volcano Alcedo and penguin; Santa Cruz for human inhabitants (the most populous island?); Baltra is where most tourists first land because of the airport. Pinta, Machena and Genovesa are smaller islands farther northeast and need more time to explore. Fernadina is close to Isabela with the highest volcano La Cumbre (1,494m). The smallest and remotest islets are Wolf and Darwin upon which the name bearer never set his feet. Strange. Beaches here are too wavy and marine life different. The most desirable is going alone instead of joining a group by hiring a private guide, if money and time are no object. The most memorable is when sitting on the bow of our boat, watching a pair of dolphins jumping in and out of surface just under my feet, in a playful race to show off their agility, velocity and curiosity, for well over 15 or 20 minutes. The most regrettable is that the memory chip bought just for the trip goes bad the moment I begin to capture this once-in-a-lifetime spectacle. The dark brown, two-meter-long dolphins are so close that I could see their eyes blinking mischievously. The most philosophical is seeing Lonesome George, the oldest giant tortoise on record (died on June 24, 2012, two months after my visit, at age of 102). George remains a life long bachelor for lack of suitable female partners. I wonder if his longevity is the result of this celibacy and how much he has missed. Then, I feel stupid. What does human carnal pleasure mean to a turtle? 

 

My fellow travelers are an international ensemble. Kuenen and his girlfriend Beverly are from New Zealand, a couple with kind heart and weird intellect. Canadians Page (from Toronto) and Loraine (from Montreal with a distinctive Quebec French accent) barely talk to each other but are forced to share the room throughout the trip for lodging economy and gender rule. Netley and Amy, both from Australia and chubby, always travel together. They prove that obesity need not be a liability if strong and nimble at the same time. Their fellow Aussies, Meg and Vic, are pretty and charming, lovebirds with a small town chastity that can be deceiving. Jennifer and Bill, the only Americans beside me, are from Vermont and engaged in an obscure eco-food scheme. They take hours to scrutinize meals before devouring them in seconds. Finally, Willy, the bearish guide with his big sliver-shining Breitling and an unfailing broad smile, always sweats profusely and flirts with every woman in the group, and eventually scores with Page. Approaching the end of the trip, one morning at the breakfast table, I overhear Loraine, Page’s reluctant roommate, whispering to other women that Page sneaks out of the room for the last two nights. Momentarily, Page emerges radiantly, contrasting her previous dampened spirit over a recent broken relationship. Willy is nowhere in sight and it’s well over breakfast time. The itch of gossip proves irresistible even for this group of accidental tourists from afar, thinking they've abandoned all old habits behind for a spiritual renewal.

I have faith in Ecuador, a country of opposing qualities. Plagued by corruption and crime, this small South American nation sometimes shows a big heart and courage. The whistle blowers of epic proportions such as Assange, WikiLeaks founder, and Snowden, NSA employee, all seek and are granted political asylum from her. The former has been languishing in Ecuadorian Embassy in London since 2012, to fight Sweden’s extradition, while the latter is stuck in Russia to escape America’s espionage charge. These are no small feats, considering the overwhelming odds against Ecuador. My prayer goes to Galapagos.

Feb. 10, 2015, Bethesda, Maryland



Galapagos


Galapagos penguin


Galapagos blue-feet bobby


Galapagos marine iguana 


Lonesome George




Willy


My group on a volcano ridge


Our boat