We started the engines. The Loch Ness Monster family (our resident sea lions) seemed to regard the vibrations as "Massage Mode" and promptly went back to sleep. Once we started accelerating through about three knots, they realized their new home was heading out into deep water. After a few bleary-eyed looks around, they slipped one by one into Begonia's wake without making so much as a ripple in the water. Lucky for them, it was changeover day for the big overnight tour boats, so there were plenty of nearby options for them that weren't as far away as the distant beaches for them to resume their slumber before daybreak.
Our day was the usual one-engine motor over a long, smooth swell coming in from some distant storm hundreds of miles to the south. We saw dolphins in the early twilight as we passed Punta Wreck, and then later saw a couple of Humpback whales in the distance to break up the monotony. It was also the day that the sun passed our latitude on its way south. At solar noon on the boat, it passed us just ¼ degree to the north of straight up. That, and the lack of wind really made it seem especially blazing hot anywhere out of the shade.
A calm day of motoring with the odd dolphin and even whale to distract us
On the far side of Floreana, we made it to the island's only village of Puerto Velasco Ibarra (Population: 150) with two hours of daylight left to get secured. The early start got to us. We managed to stay up just long enough for it to get properly dark before giving up and heading for bed.
I was well slept-out by the time we noticed the sky getting lighter outside. The thought briefly went through my head to get up and make an early start of the day, but Maryanne was still sleeping peacefully and I didn't want to disturb her. A few minutes later, my fidgeting had failed to have any effect on her, so I decided to try it her way and stay in bed for a little longer.
One of the things I had actually been looking forward to about Floreana is that there really isn't a whole lot to do. Unlike Santa Cruz or San Christobal, there wasn't the feeling that we had to be up from sunup to sundown every day to have a chance to see everything. We decided our first day on Floreana would be an easy reconnaissance of the town, followed by an early return to Begonia, where we would use our new-found knowledge to plan the subsequent days of our stay.
First impressions ashore; note the lack of shaddows in the high noon sun
That was the plan, anyway. Of course, it didn't quite work out that way. We managed to cover the village's grid of four streets by four streets in no time. The place seemed like a deserted ghost town. The residents must have all been inside, sensibly hiding from the equatorial sun.
Not us. At solar noon, since we were just a touch further south than yesterday's trip here, the sun was even closer to vertical than it was then, except this time it was just to the south of that point in the sky. This is about the time that Maryanne suggested that, since we were already ashore, we could get the mile-long trail out of the way that goes north along the coast to a place where it may be possible to see flamingoes.
We hadn't planned for this originally, so we didn't have our usual day pack full of water and snacks, but a mile isn't that far, right?
Well, except that it's really two, plus all of the in-town walking that we had already done by then. Galapagos' main endemic plant species are a spindly tree with tiny, water-saving leaves and cactus. Neither is much use for creating shade, so almost anything done outdoors is in direct, blazing sunlight. Then there is the fact that the ground is mostly hot, black lava, which is harder going than other types of ground.
The flamingoes were elsewhere, presumably somewhere cooler. We lingered for a bit, decided it was just too hot and then returned to town.
I was just peeling off toward the harbor in the direction of the water taxi, dreaming of the shade of Begonia's cabin and a big glass of cold, fizzy water, when Maryanne suggested that, since we were already ashore and since we had already done the trail to the north, there was another trail of just over a mile (each way again) to the south that we could also walk. That way, we will have done pretty much everything there is to do in the vicinity of town. Besides, the sun was dipping well below eighty degrees by now. I got the feeling my choice was to do it now, or be ashore first thing on another day to do it before it gets hot. Fine. Let's go.
It was a lovely walk past some amazing rocky beach scenery. One of our favorite finds was a couple of hammocks strung up close to the ground under the shade of a low, dense bush. The bush was oriented in such a way as to funnel the prevailing wind right through. After a long, hot day, it was like sitting in front of an air conditioner. Both of us toyed with the idea of dozing off for a beach nap, but then we remembered there's only one water taxi guy, Joselito, and he doesn't like working late.
Walk on the southern trail to Loberia beach (the circles of rocks on the trail are protecting buried iguana nests)
Back in the village for the second time, I was getting ready to peel off again when Maryanne said she wanted to pop into the bakery and see if they had any bread. I couldn't remember seeing a bakery, but Maryanne assured me that it was just a few blocks away. A few blocks away? Yep, at the far corner from where we were now standing. Since the town is built into a hillside, that also meant it was at the top.
Meandering down the middle of the main road on the way back to the harbor, as we passed the restaurant our Floreana agent mentioned that he owned, I suggested we go in for a rest in the shade and maybe a couple of beers. Every restaurant on Floreana recommends you give a day's notice if you want to eat something, but we figured it might be possible they have a cooler in the back with some beers in.
When we entered the restaurant, it was empty, except for the owner (again, our agent, who we had just sat down with a few hours before) and his family/staff. The owner seemed to not recognize us and the others seemed confused as to why we were there. We got the feeling we had accidentally wandered into somebody's private back garden. When we explained we were not planning to eat, just hoping for a couple of beers, the owner grudgingly insisted that we sit down.
A few minutes later, I noticed one of the women from the kitchen out of the corner of my eye. She was running across the road from the store across the street to the restaurant, carrying a beer in each hand, which were then subsequently routed through the kitchen and onto our table. Oh, dear! We really had put them out. This was awkward. Maryanne sensibly refrained from explaining that she had really wanted a light beer.
Well that turned out to be a bigger day than we had planned. Back at the harbor, Joselito was waiting for us. Of course he was. We were the only ones ashore. Once he got us back to our boat, he could go home for the night. He was really nice about it, acting like delivering us was as interesting as anything else he was going to do tonight. Once he got back, I would swear it looked like he turned out the lights of the town along the way as he walked home.
We were up a little late the following morning. I initially thought we would just chalk the day off as a rest day, but by afternoon, we were both getting a little restless. We had found out the day before that there is a 3pm public bus to the end of the road in the highlands. This is where most of the arable land is on the island, so the bus is really for the farmers, but we were told there was always space. We decided the round trip would make for a nice easy day.
We did snorkel in the morning (off black beach and around the coastline)
We joined a handful of farmers on the bus. Once they had been dropped off at their plots, our bus continued to the end of the road, where a trailhead continued through a tortoise sanctuary, and then up to a place called Pirate's Cave.
The tortoises were not in evidence. We were able to spot part of one way under some distant trees. Pirate's Cave, further up the hill, is where a few of the early settlers camped out while they were building more typical wood and stone houses lower down. The cave that they made their home is surprisingly small. The really cool thing is that the whole area around the cave is riddled with grottoes that were blocked off into accommodation or animal pens, and are now just interesting and picturesque geology.
And took the local bus (mostly used by farmers and school kids) up to the 'highlands' area. The tortoises were mostly in hiding, but we had great fun exploring the "Labrynth" area with its strange rock features.
When we were done, our return bus was just late enough that we worried that we had perhaps misunderstood the driver's directions. It was a relief when we finally heard the engine struggling up the hill towards us. We were even more relieved when the driver waved off our fare, explaining that it was a round trip fareme (that we'd already paid) instead of one-way, as we had been told.
On our first meeting, the local/official tour guide had quoted a huge price for a boat tour of the north side of Floreana. He also explained that the price was for the boat, so we could split the cost with any other boats that show up in the anchorage later. On our third day anchored at Puerto Velasco Ibarra, two other boats showed up. I had some maintenance to do, so Maryanne did the rounds to see if there were any takers and then to shore to make arrangements. When she came home, she told me that we were to be ready to be picked up at Begonia the next morning at 7:30 am.
Joselito arrived in his water taxi, picked us up, and then went to One Piece, the other catamaran in the anchorage, to pick up Bent and Andrea. The four of us were then shuttled to a boat smaller than even Begonia, where, after cursory introductions, we were soon rocketing for the northern coast. This is a very pretty part of the island and the main place where the big, overnight tour boats anchor, as well as the big mega-yachts that can afford to take on an official Galapagos guide as an additional crew member.
As we entered the expansive bay with them, we were all a bit concerned that the surf was looking a bit rough. Out tour boat had no tender, so the plan was to anchor, back up to the beach, lift the engines, and have us wade in from the stern, as we had done on other tours on other islands.
After a few bad wave hits where the undersized anchor did not seem to be holding us against the surf, all of us guests fully expected the crew to abort and move on to Plan B. Instead, they pressed on.
The skipper tilted the engines out of the water, removing any direct control that he had of the vessel. As we slowly dragged anchor toward the beach, we were all motioned to make haste in getting off the boat. Then the boat started hitting bottom with heavy thuds. As I jumped off the side at the stern, our tour guide grabbed my arm to help stabilize me. Based on the depth at the stern and the pounding the boat was taking, I was expecting to end up at about knee-height in the churned-up water. It was a surprise to end up submerged to my armpits. I tripped and stumbled my way ashore to meet Bent and Andrea, who looked to have had a similar experience to mine on their own side of the boat.
Last off the boat was Maryanne. With the guide, Walter, on one side and the mate on the other, she was led between the big outboard engines to the swim platform. The plan seemed to be to vault her as far away from the boat as possible into the shallow water at the beach. They timed it for a lull in the motion and gave her a good pull. From my perspective further back, I could see that the boat was now moving backwards very quickly as it surfed backwards down a wave crest. Worried that if she touched bottom, the boat running over her would at the very least break both her legs, I ran forward, grabbed her legs, and pushed them back onto the swim platform, then I had to jump back to keep from being bowled over myself.
With me pushing her legs and the other two pulling her arms, Maryanne entered the water at a steep angle. She managed to get a leg down to keep her head above water. I was able to grab one of her arms and pull her on her heels out of the water to the safety of the beach. There, the four of us looked at each other as our guide waded ashore and agreed that we all hoped we weren't going to be getting back on the boat here.
We were not. Walter started heading out on a trail leading from the beach. We soon realized we were meant to be following him. With the economy in the Galapagos heavily reliant on tourism, being a guide is one of the more commonplace jobs in the islands. Walter was nice enough, but seemed to lack the confidence needed to be in such a public-facing job. He spoke very little English. Our Spanish was a little better, but even so, Maryanne had to pepper him with questions to get short, muttered answers. Otherwise, we were all like a mule train following the one in front as we picked our way along the trail in the heat.
After a kilometer or so, we ended up at the first attraction, the site of the original Post Office barrel, now presumably a many times replaced replica. This is where passing vessels back in the olden days would leave and collect letters to forward on. Now it's a thing every group of tourists on a boat just has to do. Maryanne and I looked for any postcards intended for the way we were heading, but found none. Bent and Andrea found a few to deliver to their home country of Germany. Then there was a long pause where it was clear we were intended to pen our own outgoing messages. Almost none of the postcards added to the barrel will be delivered the slow way via sail. Most will be taken back to tourist lodges and then added to luggage to be put on the flight home. This made it seem more like a postcard-selling gimmick to us than anything else. Still, it was an excuse to stop walking and have a few minutes of rest.
From the Post Barrel, we continued on to the Baroness' House, where one of the early settlers to that remote northern part of the island lived (she arrived with a couple of lovers and dubbed herself the Baroness of Floreana, with the goal of building a hotel). Her arrival completely disrupted the peace of the other settlers in the area and is associated with many mysterious disappearances (presumably murders). The fate of the Baroness herself is still unknown. It's the stuff movies are made of, and there are at least three of them: a 1934 moveie "The Empress of Eden"; a 2013 documentary "The Galapagos Affair: Satan Came to Eden"; and a newer 2024 movie (starring Jude Law among others) simply called "Eden".
At Post Office Bay we had a wild landing with the raised engines of the boat crashing onto the beach as we were to disembark(!), were we partook in the postcard writing and checked to see if there were any we might be able to hand deliver in the next few months (nope)
We then walked a short distance to a different Pirate's Cave from the one in the highlands. There, we were able to descend into refreshingly cool air for a few minutes of respite before returning to the equatorial heat above.
Pirate's Cave and the remains of the Baroness' house
Sightseeing at Olla Bay, and snorkelling around Punta Luz del Dia ended the tour
Our group then continued on to a high viewpoint over a wide, calm bay. Here, we found one of the flamingoes Maryanne and I had been looking for when we first arrived. We were also all very pleased to learn that this is where we were to reboard the boat for the return trip.
On the way back, the boat stopped at Punta Luz del Dia, where we all went into the water for a snorkel. There had been a bit of confusion about this. We had been told there were caves into which we could swim. We expected them to be here, but after being led around in the churned-up water by Walter, who didn't even have benefit of fins, we were told it was time to reboard the boat. It turns out the cave swim was supposed to be in the pool at the bottom of Pirate's Cave, but not today, because the water was too shallow. Well, at least we all got to cool off.
Our tour was advertised as including a meal. We were a bit surprised when we zoomed back to Puerto Velasco Ibarra without anyone motioning to break out a box of cheese sandwiches or some such thing. Then the water taxi took us back to the harbor instead of returning us to our boats. That's when it became clear that we were going to be fed at our agent's restaurant.
This time, having booked ahead, we were welcomed warmly and pile after pile of delicious food was placed before us. The staff seemed genuinely pleased that we were enjoying it so much. We also noticed that when members of a different group at a different table ordered beers, it initiated the same stealthy trip to the store across the street by one of the women in the kitchen. Perhaps they don't have a fridge.
With our tour now complete, Bent and Andrea invited us and the occupants of the non-participating cruising boat over to One Piece for sundowners. One Piece is about 50% bigger than Begonia in all dimensions and it's new. Their boat has the feel of a luxury hotel suite, compared to Begonia's vintage-caravan-you-pull-behind-the-station wagon vibe. It was a nice end to what we all agreed was a somewhat lackluster and hastily organized boat tour.
After a recovery morning, Maryanne and I decided to repeat our bus trip up to the highlands again. This time, it was much more fun. We found lots of tortoises in the sanctuary, munching away at their dinners and jostling each other for the best spots in the various mud pools. The light was also better in the grottoes above.
Leaving a few sea lions playing at Begonia, we went ashore and took the bus back to the Highlands - this time the tortoises were out in the open, and afterwards we enjoyed a few drinks at the local beach bar
After returning to Puerto Velasco Ibarra, we tried for about the sixth time to visit the Black Beach Bar. It had been deserted every time we had been by before. There were reports that they made a mean margarita and we were doing our best all week to try to drop off some cash so we could have a sample, to no avail.
Finally, this day, we found the proprietress, who prepared both a lime and a passion fruit variety for us. They were as good as advertised. The only other patrons, at the next table over, were a couple of visiting scientists that were having a fascinating conversation about their respective biological specialties, which we took to be lizards and insects. We were both dying to introduce ourselves (especially Maryanne, as a fellow biologist) and join the conversation. It was pretty apparent, though, that they were on an early date. Not wanting to be ‘those people', we paid our bill and left them to it.
It was getting pretty dark by then. The town seemed to be shutting down, despite their being no announcement over the Tannoy that the town would be closing in ten minutes, please make your way to the exits.
At the harbor, we could find no sign of Joselito. We returned to our agent's closed restaurant and stood outside to use his wifi signal to send a message, but got no response. We wandered the empty streets for an hour and a half, while occasionally stopping to try to make contact. We were just about to enact Plan B, which was for one of us to swim from the Black Beach Bar (the closest point) to Begonia to retrieve the dinghy. Just then, we heard Joselito's scooter in the distance. He seemed apologetic for the delay, saying the messages had gone to his sister's phone. The water taxi company is called Juanita's. Perhaps that's her. He said that at any rate, he was going to start looking for us soon because he didn't want us to get stranded on the island overnight.
For our last day on Floreana, we only had one thing we wanted to do, which was to see the island's museum. It was usually closed and directions we had as to its location were vague, but we were lucky enough that the woman at the Black Beach Bar knew all about it, as it was her responsibility. When we met her the night before, she gave us better directions and promised to open it up for us. It was small, but interesting, and filled in many of the holes in our knowledge of the local history.
We decided to add a second item to our shore list and have lunch at a particularly inviting restaurant that we had seen the day before during our wanderings. We popped in then to make a reservation for the next day's lunch and the woman behind the counter couldn't have been nicer.
Today, however, as we presented ourselves for our meal, we were given blank stares. Who were we? What did we want? Did we make a reservation? When the woman we had talked to the day before showed up, we thought she would clear the whole thing up with the others, but we just got more of the same. When it was finally confirmed that we had properly arranged to be there, the news was met with barely perceptible eye-rolls. Hmm... this place seemed so jolly yesterday. At least they had a beer fridge, so our wait through the uncomfortable silence leading up to our meal wasn't a total loss.
We returned via the main street (yes, that is the main road of the village), and took a trip to the local museum (a collection of family artifacts and signboards within the Hotel Wittmer). Some of the translations are always fun, and the final picture here is of the Baroness's house before it toppled into its current ruins; i.e. not much different to today :-).
By the time we got home after our short day, it was starting to get hot enough that taking a dip to wipe the growth off Begonia's bottom paint for our next leg seemed like it would be more refreshing than onerous.
{Note: All the islands in the Galapagos have multiple names, each from the different stages of ownerships and history. Floreana (also sometimes spelt Floriana) is also known as Mercedes Island, Charles Island, and Santa Maria Island}
Anchorage location >> On google maps
