Galápagos: Tour Through Time
Climb the stairway of 400 steps on Isla Bartolome and your view features a distinctive anchorage and the actively volcanic landscape of neighboring Isla Santiago just two of the 19 islands in Ecuador's Galopagos archipelago, which straddles the equator 600 miles west of the mainland.
Bright sun penetrated the deep water near the rim of the volcano, and the water appeared a rich aqua behind my mask. I was snorkeling with my video camera in a waterproof housing and listening to the sound of my breathing. Aware of the others in our group, I was lagging behind, along the steep wall, trying to zoom in on some colorful reef fish. Then I heard the muffled call-"Shark!"-and surfaced to see my wife, Rachel, pointing just to my right. I ducked my head down again and pressed the "start" button: A moment later, a five-foot hammerhead glided toward me, about 20 feet below the surface, veering away from the wall a few seconds later and quickly fading out of sight. Strangely, I wasn't scared. OK, I was wide awake, but I was mostly frustrated that the view was so brief. Not only did I want to see the hammerhead again, I realized; I actually wanted to get closer.
I'd landed barely 24 hours earlier, but I could already feel that when it came to getting nose to nose with the wildlife, the Galápagos could have a powerful effect on you.
In the past, if someone mentioned Ecuador's Galápagos Islands to me, I'd think of giant tortoises fed upon by early seafarers; the voyage of Beagle and its famous passenger, Charles Darwin; and his book On the Origin of Species. Once I visited the islands, however, I was confronted not only by the stunning array of animal species but equally by the platform itself-this ecological laboratory-in reality a slow-moving train of volcanic islands that are working their way southeast at a rate of one inch per year.
