EPI trip to Galapagos: traveling from the Islands to hope
- Ana Beatriz Hernández
- Jun 25
- 7 min read
This is the third and final post in Ana Beatriz’s blog series about her first trip to the Galapagos with EPI students. In part one, she explored the islands through the eyes of a naturalist. In part two, she met the legendary Lonesome George and uncovered plastic in paradise. Now, she wraps up the journey with final reflections and unforgettable moments.
June 10th
The ocean breeze slightly tints the air white. At the dock, dozens of voyagers rush about, and the rolling suitcases—best avoided in these hectic moments—create an unstoppable chorus alongside the sea lions’ barks, growls, and roars. Wolf, our ferry to Isabela, welcomes us after a short ride on a water taxi. The captain and his crew deliver a safety briefing, and we’re ready to depart. Forty-seven miles separate us from Isabela, a two-hour journey. We set sail at 7 a.m.
Upon arriving in Isabela, we spot sea lions basking in the sun at the dock. Their wet fur glistens, making them appear as if dressed in elegant uniforms. A large female rests at the base of one of the dock’s columns. Her unusually large belly reveals she is pregnant. Zalophus wollebaeki, an endemic species to the Galapagos Islands, has also been sighted in Malpelo and Gorgona Islands. Hypotheses suggest they originated from the California sea lion.
As beautiful as they are smelly, these otariids (members of the pinniped family) have a gestation period of nine months, just like humans. It’s no wonder this female needs plenty of rest!
After finding our hotel, we set off to explore nearby hypersaline pools and a small mangrove area. Marine iguanas, of the same species as those on Santa Cruz, accompany our steps. It's important to note that each island has its own subspecies—these ones are larger, thanks to the nutrient-rich waters brought by the Humboldt and Cromwell currents. Multiple factors impact each island’s biodiversity.
As we continue, we spot three pink flamingos (Phoenicopterus ruber) feeding.“Juveniles are pale—they don’t look like this. It’s their food that gives them this pigment,” Martín tells the participants.
A black-necked stilt (Himantopus mexicanus) stands nearby, more discreet in appearance but equally frantic in its search for invertebrates under the water. Yellow warblers (Setophaga petechia) dart from one spot to another like little sparks of feathers.
At the end of the trail, we make a quick visit to another Galapaguera—a giant tortoise breeding center—where we learn about yet another carapace structure. In Santa Cruz, we saw saddleback and dome-shaped shells. Here, we observe the flat carapace of Chelonoidis vicina, a species inhabiting the slopes of Cerro Azul volcano on Isabela Island.
A chiva (open-sided bus) takes us to another sector of the Galapagos National Park for a hike to El Esterito. We leave our belongings under the trees and wade into the water. It reaches our waists, and the tide seems to hesitate, debating whether to let us venture further into the mangroves. Eventually, we overcome the pull of the waves, and a surreal scene unfolds. We swim among waves, volcanic rocks, and tangled mangrove roots. For a moment, it feels like we are the only humans on Earth.
June 11th
Concha de Perla is a jewel, a natural marine pool that lies right next to the entrance to Isabela Island. Walking along a wooden boardwalk above the mangrove roots, dozens of local schoolchildren greet us. They're on a field trip, working on assignments tied to the contextualized academic curriculum.
Martín Narváez—EPI and ECOS instructor—explains how the project was developed, as he was directly involved: “The idea was that, for example, math teachers could use local fish prices at the market in their lessons, making content relevant to the island’s inhabitants. We wanted every subject to include an approach connected to Galapagos daily life and to enrich the curriculum through experiential learning.” The children greet us in Spanish and English, their kind smiles and curious glances noticing our snorkel masks.
As soon as we dive in, an incredible array of fish reveals itself between the rocks and roots. Among the most remarkable, a large Pacific burrfish (Chilomycterus reticulatus) floats slowly, as if suspended in the water. Sergeant majors (Abudefduf saxatilis), Yellowtail surgeonfish (Prionurus punctatus), a pair of Moorish idols (Zanclus cornutus), and the Blue-chin parrotfish (Scarus ghobban) cautiously explore our presence.
Suddenly, the largest hawksbill sea turtle (Eretmochelys imbricata) I’ve ever seen looks upward, almost as if saluting us. Mica and Martín had told us about this turtle at Concha de Perla, and even though we expected her, her size still left us astonished. Her slow, deliberate movements felt like watching a statue come to life. EPI students swam above her, etching this dreamlike moment into their memories.
As we prepare to leave the water, a sea lion dashes past on the same path we had just swum, as if urging us to stay and play.
Next, we take a boat to the famous Tintoreras off Isabela Island. A lunar landscape stretches before us: thousands of sharp volcanic rocks covered in white patches of lichens and other organisms.
This place gets its name from the white-tipped reef sharks (Triaenodon obesus), locally known as tintoreras, which are commonly found throughout the archipelago. In the distance, we see Sierra Negra volcano. Closer to our feet, dozens of marine iguanas, the dominant creatures here, lounge in the sun. Las Tintoreras is a critical nesting site for them. Our guide Sandra frequently reminds us to watch our steps to avoid harming the reptiles.
As we proceed, something reflective appears in the water—not volcanic rock this time, but the dark bodies of white-tipped reef sharks resting in a channel. From the land, we return to the water to explore another vibrant underwater world.
We find ourselves surrounded by sea turtles. A little further along, a six-foot-long reef shark blends into the seafloor. Almost at the end of our snorkel, a tiny, bullet-like swimmer zips past. Céline’s, an excited student points—it’s her lifelong dream to see one: a Galapagos penguin (Spheniscus mendiculus). These adorable birds, the second smallest penguin species in the world, stand about 19 inches tall. Observing them is a rare privilege; their population nearly vanished in the 1980s due to El Niño and human factors like oil spills. They could have shared the fate of Lonesome George—but here they are, as if asking us to protect their future.
Back on the boat, the penguins steal our attention once more. Everyone scrambles to capture a good photo, fighting against the rocking waves. After several attempts, we get clear shots. What’s crystal clear, though, is Céline’s expression—deeply joyful, her eyes glowing. Her tightly clasped hands seem to hold onto the moment itself. These are the memories that justify every logistic plan, meeting, and document behind a field trip. In Céline’s heart, Galapagos penguins will live on forever.
That afternoon, we returned to the beach, where students present the findings from their group projects. After days of inquiry, data collection, analysis, and debate, they now share their evidence and reasoning with peers. It's deeply moving to reflect that Charles Darwin once walked these same shores, refining his theories during the Beagle expedition in the 1800s.
June 12th
“Alive, aware, in awe.” Just like the symphonic metal band Nightwish sings in their song inspired by Darwin’s words—endless forms most beautiful—we approach the end of our journey, filled with gratitude. Today we returned to Santa Cruz, and it's “graduation day,” the official end of our course.
Each participant shares their favorite memory, whether it’s a new friendship, an incredible encounter with a new species, or a personal breakthrough. We also reflect on the challenges: for some, the heat or early mornings; for others, unexpected companions like spiders. But one thing we all share is the sense of having lived an experience beyond any ordinary trip, a life-changing adventure full of once-in-a-lifetime moments.
Galapagos has been not only about its extraordinary nature, but also its extraordinary people. In the afternoon, we meet a remarkable group of teens called Los Molas, all committed to protecting Galapagos and educating others about conservation. Under the guidance of Sebastián Pilla, they take us on a quest to discover more about Santa Cruz Island through a scavenger hunt.
They guide us to the artisans’ market, a ceramics garden, a central plaza, and a peaceful spot where they invite us to swim with them. Their passion and empowerment offer hope for the islands’ future. EPI students practice their Spanish, Los Molas their English—and the universal language of play, friendship, and laughter breaks any barriers.
Our final challenge: perform a short piece on a topic assigned by Los Molas. Mixed into groups with members from different backgrounds, we share songs, skits, and dances full of meaning and fun. We end the day with ice cream before Los Molas head off—some to finish schoolwork, others to prepare for community initiatives, or to simply enjoy a well-earned afternoon.
Our last dinner together is a celebration of life, of biodiversity, and of a deeper commitment to conservation. This EPI experience proves that joy, friendship, adventure, and personal growth go hand in hand with science. May every participant recall this trip with a smile—and may that smile remind them of their role in protecting this extraordinary world.
Thank you for following Ana Beatriz’s journey through the Galapagos. From first impressions to powerful encounters and final reflections, her experience with EPI students has been a reminder of the beauty, fragility, and importance of protecting these unique islands.
If you're interested in joining an EPI program in the Galapagos, visit this page to learn more: https://www.ecologyproject.org/galapagos-islands-ecology-program
