killings on the Galápagos

I spent four nights and five days on the Galápagos Islands in December 1992.

This was the voyage of a lifetime. In those five days my ideal of "paradise" was defined for me. As we landed and deboarded the plane, we removed our shoes so as not to transfer the harmful, non-native Guayaquileño microorganisms from the mainland to the pristine lands we were about to discover.

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The past years have seen an increase in bad news for the Islands. Non-native species initially introduced for pest control are now overtaking what used to be native-only habitats. These native species are now threatened, a few have completely died out, as their eggs or young are food for the wild dogs, goats, cats and even monkeys. There are new insect populations that have been introduced in the past 15 years that before did not exist, which are damaging the flora; immigration is forcing over-fishing of the surrounding waters due to lack of other work on the Islands; and tourism is not being kept under control.

The warming of the waters surrounding the Islands is causing the death of many coral reefs and, consequently, much of the fish that feed off of those reefs or use them as their shelter. The Equatorial line runs right through the north part of the largest island of Isabela. Indeed, upon my return to Ecuador in 1997, I visited the beach town of Salinas one day to find the ocean water (just a couple of degrees south of the Equator) as warm as hot tub water. Talking to a few of the locals, they said that tourism in Salinas was at an all-time high that year as the waters have never, in recorded history, been so warm. (1997 was an El Niño year, hence the warm water; it was the next year that major hurricanes hit the Gulf Coast and Central America, including Mitch, and as I was living then in New Orleans, I was flooded in a tropical storm up to my waist on Broadway Street next to Tulane and, two weeks later, was fleeing a different Cat5 that was heading right for us but, at the last minute, turned and slammed into Mobile.)

Just today, the BBC Mundo paper online to which I subscribe described that 53 sea lions were just found on Isla Pinta, one of the 16 main islands that make up the archipelago, but that lies to the north of the Equator, with their heads bashed in. There was no apparent reason for this attack; they were not dismembered and it did not appear they were used in any way for body parts. They don't have natural predators on land and normally do not fear humans; I was, in fact, chased by one who I got too close to for a photograph back in 1992. Obviously, I got away...those sea lions can be HUGE.

Nobody can find a motive for the attack on these sea lions, which included 13 pups.

Survival of the fittest, indeed. Bah.

This saddens me terribly, as much as it saddens me to learn of the now paved streets that did not before exist, the disrespect shown to what was once one of the last uncontaminated spots on Earth.

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When I put my shoes on upon boarding my tiny commuter flight back to Guayaquil, I knew deep in my heart that I would never again return. Once to pay respect is adequate; twice can be abusive, taking more of mine than what is mine to take. I would love to share this beauty with my children but, alas, it is no longer the wonder that it once was, and will never return to that state. I will forever hold the memories of counting dozens of shooting stars at night, walking through the dusty paths by starlight, hearing the distant bays of the few wild dogs there actually were in 1992 in harmony with the gentle lapping of the Enchanted Islands' unpredictable ocean currents washing up on the beach of Puerto Ayora, Santa Cruz.