EPI Trip to the Galapagos: Embodying the Naturalist Experience
- Ana Beatriz Hernández
- 3 days ago
- 5 min read
Updated: 2 days ago
Written by Ana Beatriz, EPI’s Galápagos Program Coordinator and a Costa Rican biologist, this is her first visit to the archipelago, where she’s accompanying a group of students. This is the first installment—more coming soon.
June 4th
Two hours after departing Quito. Humidity: 78.4%. Temperature: 27.8°C/82°F.
Windy conditions and slight turbulence marked our descent. We didn’t bring a compass or an astrolabe, but the flight to the Galápagos felt like a tribute to the great expeditions of human history. After passing through layers of clouds, a turquoise ocean unveiled Baltra Island, home to “the only ecological airport in the world,” as proudly stated on the sign above its main hall entrance.
A passport stamp depicting a giant tortoise of the genus Chelonoidis served as a fitting introduction to our mission—and a memory to keep.
Our journey continued beyond the skies. After landing, we crossed the Itabaca Channel. Five minutes later, we were on Santa Cruz Island. Our field expedition would span from the highlands to the ocean, and so, a bus carried us through the Highland View camping grounds. Along the way, we passed through the communities of Santa Rosa and Bellavista before arriving at El Cascajo.
Miles of endemic vegetation stretched before us, interspersed with invasive trees and cultivated crops, forming a living green carpet over the landscape. The songs of finches accompanied us, as though whispering the secrets of the archipelago.
As night fell, we took shelter in camping tents to rest from the journey and gather strength for the morning, when we would finally meet the giants.
June 5th
Freddy was waiting for us in Bellavista, one of ten communities that make up Santa Cruz. He and Wilman—both rangers from the Galápagos National Park—have spent more than 20 years tracking, researching, and conserving various species of Chelonoidis tortoises throughout the archipelago.
They’ve witnessed astonishing scenes: up to 300 tortoises gathering during heavy rain; others succumbing to lava flows in an attempt to continue their journeys, their mummified remains a stark reminder of the Galápagos’ volcanic nature; and tortoises navigating rugged craters, mastering the art of survival amidst lava, vapor, and ash, all in terrains we’d assume too harsh for any vertebrate.
We met Wilman in the El Chato sector of Galápagos National Park. He stood waiting in a misty forest draped in Spanish moss (Tillandsia usneoides), a scene seemingly frozen in time. Each member of our EPI–ECOS expedition team prepared their tools: rubber boots, a scale, measuring tape, waterproof notebook, pencil, GPS, PIT tag scanner, and more.
Wilman led us through the forest—a maze of volcanic rocks, blackberry thickets, and narrow trails. Mud became a constant presence: on our boots, our gear, the tortoises’ carapaces, and even on the cheeks of an adventurous student!
The data collection process followed a detailed protocol:
Avoid stepping in front of the tortoise to minimize stress.
Measure the curved carapace length from back to front.
Measure the width across the highest point of the shell.
Measure the plastron after carefully flipping the tortoise onto her back—a task requiring at least five students—measuring from front to rear.
Tortoises too large to weigh are estimated to exceed 150 kg.
Each step has been refined over time to support the Galápagos National Park in their efforts to monitor and conserve the species.Nine tortoises and a few kilometers later, we returned to Primicias Ranch, tired, muddy, and smiling after a successful mission.
June 6th
The abundance of invasive Spanish cedar (Cedrela odorata) trees in Santa Cruz explains the thick blanket of leaves covering the ground. Amidst this debris and volcanic rock, we joined the staff of the Galápagos Biosecurity Agency to search for the Giant African Snail (Lissachatina fulica).
Before beginning, we received a thorough briefing on the ecological, economic, and health threats posed by this invasive species, including its role in the decline of endemic snail populations. Armed with gloves and sticks, we combed through the undergrowth. The snails, masters of camouflage, proved elusive.
Fortunately, we had help. A very special member of the team—particularly skilled and charismatic—quickly tipped the scales in our favor. His name is Kratos, a Belgian Malinois trained to detect Giant African Snails (and other illegal items that might be smuggled into the islands). Within minutes, he had found dozens. His secret weapon? An extraordinary sense of smell.
Kratos will serve as a biosecurity dog for 8 to 10 years before retiring as a decorated public servant, truly a good boy.
“Juvenile, subadult, subadult, juvenile, subadult, juvenile, adult…”After the count, EPI participants, ECOS instructors, Biosecurity staff, and Kratos had collected an impressive total: 243 Giant African Snails.
Considering that each of these hermaphroditic snails can reproduce up to six times a year, laying as many as 500 eggs per cycle, we potentially prevented 729,000 new invaders from threatening the delicate Galápagos ecosystem.
It’s remarkable what can be achieved with determination, environmental education, latex gloves, a stick, a clever dog, and the dedicated guidance of the Galápagos Biosecurity Agency.
June 7th
Our eyes sweep the skies, the mangrove trees, and the tall cliffs along the shore. The swinging of the waves pulls us into an involuntary dance as we study the identification plates of some of the most commonly seen seabirds on Santa Cruz Island, while kayaking through Playa de los Alemanes and beyond. Martín leads the way, guiding each kayak toward our transect. Mica stays close to the group, ensuring that everyone is safe and sound. The participants seem experienced in rowing, and no one is left behind.
Starting from the mangroves, we soon encounter a nesting colony of Western Cattle Egret (Ardea ibis), with over 50 individuals in sight—though our ears suggest this number is clearly an underestimation. Kayaking and birdwatching make for a challenging combination, but it allows us to reach areas our eyes or binoculars might not otherwise access.
Being a naturalist demands stepping beyond our comfort zone, whether it’s putting away our cell phones to train patience and observation, or pushing ourselves to explore new ideas in unexpected ways.
Three Great Blue Herons (Ardea herodias) gaze at us curiously from their nests. Their calls evoke scenes from a Jurassic-themed movie, and their sharp yellow eyes stand out against the green mangroves. In a flash, an Elliot’s Storm Petrel (Oceanites gracilis) performs a dazzling aerial maneuver right before our eyes, disappearing into the waves and triumphantly returning with a fish in its beak. It moves so quickly that, in the end, we only catch a glimpse of its white rump fading into the distance.
The cliffs form a lively avian neighborhood: Blue-footed Boobies (Sula nebouxii), Brown Noddies (Anous stolidus), Galápagos Doves (Zenaida galapagoensis), and even several Yellow Warblers (Setophaga petechia aureola) create a scene reminiscent of an artist’s palette. We do our best to annotate each sighting, later uploading all our findings to the citizen science app eBird.
As if the day weren’t magical enough, on our way back through the mangroves, two enormous Green Sea Turtles (Chelonia mydas) pass beneath our kayaks, seemingly curious about our presence. If you pay close attention, it almost looks as if they are flying underwater.
This first installment from Ana Beatriz offers a vivid glimpse into the incredible biodiversity and conservation efforts underway in the Galapagos. Stay tuned for more updates as she continues to explore and share her experiences from this remarkable journey.
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
