The Circus

Perhaps as interesting as the place itself, was the melee that attended our visit. As mentioned above, the Discovery was the first cruise ship to visit, other than the small local ships that do week-long island-hopping trips, holding 20-40 passengers. The ship had been working on getting the licensing and making arrangements for over three years.

Even as we began heading back across the Pacific from New Zealand, passengers began asking about plans and excursions in the Galapagos. None of the staff could tell us – things were still under discussion with Ecuadorian and Galapagos authorities (the two camps being distinctly different).

Though there is a pretty standard set of processes and certificates for a ship entering an environmentally-sensitive zone, the Ecuadorians had no previous experience with it, and each ministry and official set their own rules. We had to go out 80 miles to discharge gray water; no, make that 60 miles; wait, it's 100 miles now. We had to buy fish from the local fishermen – no, wait, we weren't allowed to buy any fish locally [the cruise line has a policy of supporting local business when it can]. The photo at right shows some of the quarantined plants on board; others were removed from rooms and stored in sealed-off areas.

The ship eventually called in Dr. Peter Carey, Discovery's Antarctic Naturalist, to come to Galapagos and try to reason with the officials and straighten things out. On and on it went; fortunately, little of it affected the passengers before arrival. After three years planning, everything was down to the wire.

We picked up about a dozen corporate people from Voyages of Discover HQ in Manta, including the big boss. They seemed to both help as well as add to the confusion. We also picked up a bunch of Ecuadorian officials, who went around enforcing and checking, checking and enforcing; being from different factions, they enforced and checked the very same things at different times and often with different requirements.

It was wearing on the staff, and starting to grate on the passengers.

The ship hired local boats to take us to the various nearby visitor sites. It was quite a motley assortment, most holding 10-15 people. There was an elaborate colored sticker matching system to get the right number of people on each boat in the right order. To make matters more complicated, we were anchored, not docked. A line of little boats snaked away from the ship's gangway. It involved lots of waiting around as 300+ people got loaded fifteen at a time.

Kathy awaiting return of our tour

Even more complicated were trips to some of the more distant islands. There were only a limited number of boats allowed to visit these islands, and competition was fierce to get a seat on them. We managed to finagle tickets to Española, which was a two hour boat ride (again, in the little local boats).

The night before, we got a notice saying it was in fact a four-hour boat ride in each direction, and we'd be leaving at 6:30am, returning 12 hours later. That was too much for us, and we turned in our tickets.

As it turns out, the two boats headed to Española BOTH broke down. The first to break down transferred all its passengers to the second, making it very cozy (not to mention unsafe). They didn't arrive on Española till after noon, where they had, by all accounts, an absolutely fabulous time. When it came time to return, the first boat had managed to restart, but now the second one broke down just after leaving. Eventually, the Ecuadorian navy sent out a fast boat to pick them up and two them home – arriving at 10:30pm.

The next day, we were booked on an excursion to a second, not-quite-so-distant island – that ended up being canceled at 10pm the night beforehand. Every 2nd night, the ship had to steam 60 miles out to sea to discharge gray water. When the staff saw how many problems the Española boats had getting back on time, they cancelled the trips for the following day because they were worried the boats wouldn't return in time for the ship to head out to sea. We stayed onboard all day, to recover from all the commotion.

As we visit the island, the island visits us

While half the ship's staff were pulling out their hair over the tours, half the island was visiting the ship. Throughout the entire journey, we've had at least half a dozen local officials onboard, usually related to ensuring we are not bringing in pests of any sort. For the Galapagos “new port visited” ceremony, about eight officials were supposed to come – but 39 showed up. The environmental minister showed up with his family and entourage, and stayed overnight on the ship, and did many other officials. Ecuadorian children ran up and down the corridors while their parents took advantage of the no-cost bar. As the Captain said afterwards, "Half the population ate all our food, and the rest finished our liquor". Various groups of singing and dancing children showed up – unannounced. One evening there were three different sets of performers that appeared – the last one with 40 kids – bobbing about in boats by the gangway, while the staff tried to figure who they were and what to do with them (they were given orange sodas and a tour of the ship).

Future Ecuadorian Sailors

Moving On

In the middle of our chaotic stay in the Galapagos, a new cruise segment began, and half the passengers were replaced by new ones – flying via tiny San Cristóbal airport and being tendered, with all their luggage, onto/off of the ship.

When we finally sailed away after our five-day visit, both the crew and the passengers heaved a big sigh of relief. It was a fascinating place to visit, but we all looked forward to getting our ship back and returning to our normal calm routine. The Crew had a party -- maybe two or three of them.