Jul 2008

The night bus/mobile hotel arrived 2 hours late into Merida, at 11am. The trips to Maracaibo Lake leave from here and is a major tourist destination in this area. The lake is between 2 mountains and at night the cold air from the mountains descends over the warm lake and creates huge, statically charged clouds where lightning strikes up to 180 times a minute. We had been looking forward to this overnight trip but this wasn't the most active time of year and the price had almost doubled to US$200, so instead we decided to do paragliding the following day for US$85. That afternoon we visited the ice cream shop that has the world record for most flavours ever created - over 1000. Some of the flavours available included: beer, onion, garlic, tuna, eggs, Bacardi lemon and the conspicuous 'meat' ice cream (she couldn't tell me which meat in particular). I had coca-cola, sangria and ham & cheese flavours. Surprisingly, despite advice from my brain telling me otherwise, ham & cheese was the nicest of the 3, but mostly because the other 2 were a bit disgusting. I also had a taster of chipichipi, which wasn't some kind of tasty chocolate chip ice cream, it was actually some kind of fish ice cream which tasted like normal ice cream with some kind of fish in it. Yuck. Other flavours in the past have included Viagra and salmon. Mmm mmm.

The next day, I dragged myself out of bed at 6am to ride the longest and highest cable car in the world. Dee wasn't as enthusiastic as me so she grumpily informed me that she wanted to stay in bed. It gets cloudy later on in the day, so we were told to to get there early at 7am. Unfortunately, we weren't told that it only opens at 8am off season. I had to make the decision whether to go back to the hotel and bed, or hang about for an hour. Some other similarly confused people also arrived early so we went for breakfast together, to return at 8.

The cable car is in 4 sections totalling 4765m high and 7.77 miles long. There weren't many people there so we didn't queue long. Each section took about 15 minutes to ascend to the next level and the flora changed dramatically as we increased altitude, cruising up the side of the mountain. City and farms at the bottom, then humid jungle then cold sparse bush land and, at the end of the third chairlift, the weather worsened and the cable car started swaying violently in the sleet rain. The second to last platform was freezing cold and the storm winds blew through the station, and through our ill-prepared clothes. We hurried to the café for a warming, overpriced hot chocolate as the windows and doors howled as they were bombarded by the weather outside. The thermometer on the wall outside read 2 °C. We tried to get into the final, oxygen mask equipped cable car, but we were told to move away from the doors in case they were blown in by the gale. There was no way we were going to be able to travel the last leg and we were cold and feeling dizzy and headachey from the altitude, so we travelled back down to the bottom and the warmth. We managed to get a part refund, but it was disappointing not to be able to get to the top of the world's highest cable car.

I returned to a more awake and cheerier Dee and we were picked up to be taken to our paragliding trip. Neither of us had done paragliding before so we were quite excited as we were driven higher and higher up the side of the valley. Conditions weren't perfect - there was very little wind and the sun wasn't beating down on the valley as hard as usual. In fact, there was even a little rain when we got to our jump off/suicide point. The pilots got out the jeep and deliberated whether to cancel the jump or not, as the clouds had now formed a thick fog so it would be hard to navigate the first few seconds. Every now and again there was a slight break in the clouds, so the head pilot said we will give it a shot. Ronak, one of the new guys, jumped first. We were told to run as hard as possible into the fog and lift our legs at the last minute when the pilot screamed 'pull!'. Ronak didn't run as hard as he could and just clipped the top of a tree as he lifted his legs. Dee was up next and she wasn't looking too confident as she was jumping off over an area covered in cactus. She jumped over the tops of the cacti into the cloud and silently faded into the grey mist. I was up next and me and the pilot ran as hard as possible towards the edge, one minute I was running but not moving anywhere until I looked down and I was running on air. I pulled my legs up and we were engulfed by the fog. For a few seconds visibility was minimal then, almost as if someone turned on the light, we came out of the cloud and we were looking over the bright valley below. The feeling was so serene as we silently glided over the cacti and goats and the pilot pointed out the towns spread around the valley below. It felt like we were weightless as we traversed the side of the valley. I was strange looking down from my seat and seeing my unsupported legs dangling over the landscape shooting past below. The pilot took us into a final 360 and we landed perfectly on the disused land behind a petrol station. The whole flight took a maximum of 20 minutes, but I would have been happy to have stayed up there all day. Apparently Rio has good paragliding over the city, which we are both wanting to try when we return there in a months time at the end of our trip.

This has got to be the most exciting entry this blog has had to date. Prepare yourselves.

It was sadly time to leave Colombia and head to the greenery of northern Venezuela and the luxury of our truck. We left Cartegena at 4.30am to get an internal flight back to Bogota, Columbia's capital. We then got an international flight and another stamp in our passport as we arrived in Venezuela s capital Caracas at noon the same day. Not a bad days traveling, except Caracas was a stopover, the truck was sat in Meridia waiting for us, another 12hr bus journey away. We were using local transport so it was decided to avoid the crushed daytime coach that arrives at 3 in the morning and get the comfy overnight coach. Great idea in theory just meant we had 9.5hours to kill in a bus station in the outskirts of Caracas. Traffic is too temperamental in the city to risk going into town in case you can't get back in time (petrol’s cheap, everyone drives, everywhere, always) so we sat in the bus station. This consisted of toilets, a few hard plastic seats and a shop that ran out of all food except empanadas that looked 3 days old. The same ones were there when we arrived and when we left, 3 days is an accurate guess.

We played poker for 5 hours, I won. I people watched and guarded the bags. Ollie walked around and found takeaway pizza for the price of a restaurant meal in England - rip off!! We all got sore arses from sitting on a hard floor for so long.

I've never been more excited to get on a coach. We were upstairs at the back, it had a toilet, curtains, fully reclining seats that were wide enough to lie horizontal in and played a movie in English (Spanish subtitles)! Intermittently the crazy Venezuelan driving would wake me as he swerved on the road and I'd find myself head butting the window, but tucked up in my sleeping bag I slept like a baby - even in the minus 10 degrees air con.

So that's the tale of our 30hr journey from Cartegena to Meridia. Enthralled, weren't you?

As soon as we got off the plane at Cartagena (pronounced Carta-hey-na) the heat hit us like walking into greenhouse in summer. By the time we got to our hotel I was already looking like I’d been melting like a snowman. "Please let our room have air con. Please let our room have air con." I was chanting under my breath. Luckily it had air con and a fan. I didn't want to leave the room but we had a city tour booked, so we got back in the sweaty minibus and drove around the city. There's no denying, this is a beautiful place. It is a colonial city located on the Caribbean Sea. It was built by the Spanish using the local tribes and slaves from Africa and these influences show. The building types in the old town are a mix of Spanish colonial, post-colonial South American, Caribbean and African styles. Cartagena is traditionally a very rich port as it was on the main trade route between South America and Spain. All the gold that was stolen from the natives passed through this town, which made it a prime target for pirates. There is a total of 14 forts in this town, huge city walls and a harbour that is half blocked off for protection. The city has been under siege 5 times, mostly from the English. Sir Francis Drake was the only successful one and he stormed into the main square with a cannon and demanded that everyone give up their jewels or he will destroy the beautiful cathedral. After an hour he was still not satisfied so he fired a shot through the cathedral doors and soon enough, everyone brought out their treasures. Doesn't it make you proud you to British?

We also went up to the highest point in the city at 150m. We had to pass through the rough area of town to get there and when we got out we were bombarded with sellers trying to sell us stuff. One old guy had a smiley sloth which you could have a photo taken with for the extortionate price of £5, but it was so cute it was worth it. I turned a blind eye when the owner pinched its neck to get it to face forwards for the camera.

We also visited the largest fort which guarded the main entrance to the city.

It was a public holiday in Colombia that weekend and a couple of the plazas had stages set up for a free festival. We ate at a restaurant called Crepes & Waffles, which seemed to be the only reasonably priced restaurant within the city walls, and then headed towards the music. The beer sellers on the street looked at Dee like she was nuts when she asked for wine and after journeying around for a long time looking some, she went home while I stayed with some others and drank good ole beer.

The next morning we headed out to the city beach at Bocagrande. We were told this beach was dirty and busy, but we liked the atmosphere and the water was warm and (seemingly) clean. Every few seconds someone would appear trying to sell fruit, ice creams, beads, arepas, 'real' ray bans, ashtrays, crabs etc. Dee liked it because it was like shopping but without having to walk round shops. I spent almost all the time in the bath-temperature sea until we had to go back for our trip to the mud volcano.

An hours drive from the city took us to the mud volcano; a 25m pillar of mud rising from the ground with steps leading to the top. A quick change into our swimmers and the 9 of us scaled the steps to the platform at the top. The mud pool was full of grey, sloppy, clay-like mud. We descended down the ladder (me first) into the warm mud below. The mud is 400m deep but it is impossible to sink below your chest. Even trying to hold yourself under is hard. Moving around is almost impossible, except if you lay on your back and let someone push you. Whatever position you move into, the mud supports you and you float in that position. Within minutes it was hard to tell people apart as they all look like scary stone statues with lifelike eyes. It is supposed to be good for your skin but I don't know if that's true. Entry is free but there are a lot of people who work there and they all expect tips. There was a kid helping me down the steps into the mud, 2 masseurs in the mud, a photographer who took my camera and sandals, and some women who washed me when I got out. There had been a storm brewing for quite a while and when it started raining the mud splattered into everyone’s eyes. The masseurs screamed "Peligro!" (danger!) - the rain was making the mud splat up into our eyes, so we climbed up the ladder, holding onto our swimming costumes for dear life, as the mud was heavy and pulling them down. We skated down the steps to where women were waiting to lead us to a warm lagoon and wash the mud off our bodies, out our ears and even asked us to get naked and gave our bum cracks a quick rinse. It was definitely one of the weirdest things we have done on this trip.

That evening we went back to Crepes & Waffles again because Dee liked the cheap salad bar (only £2 for a serve-yourself salad).

The next day in Cartagena was spent on the beach again and that night ventured outside the city walls to Bocagrande in search of a cheaper restaurant, but managed to find one that was only slightly cheaper.

After the meal we all decided to go to the casino. I changed up the £1.50 I had left from our daily budget and stood with the others at the roulette table, much to the disapproval of Dee. I was happy to stand back and watch for a while, while the others lost their money. Randomly, Dee wanted me to put some money on black 10. To humour her I put 1 chip on that number and amazingly, it came in! I won nearly £5 on my first bet. She wasn't as lucky again, so I cashed in my (or, now according to Dee, 'our') winnings and bought a couple of beers at a bar before heading back.

Our last day in Cartagena was also spent on the beach and that evening we tried to go to a different restaurant, but couldn't afford it, so went back to Crepes & Waffles again.

We stopped at the delicious stawberries & cream place on the way back to Bogota and the coffee table bedded hotel. We were going to see the new Indiana Jones film that night - a film I had been excited about seeing since it was released a week ago. A lot of the group went to eat at Hard Rock Café which we couldn't afford (£12 for a burger) so we met them after. The film was good clean fun and me and Dee went back to our separate dorm rooms because there was only one double bed in the whole hotel, and it was the other couples turn that night.

I don't really think we have made the most of Bogota. There's a lot that the city has to offer (like the world famous gold museum), but on our budget of only 50,000 pesos a day, there's not much we could get out of it.

So we headed out of Bogota on a local chartered coach to the town of Villa de Leyva. A small town, popular with tourists, it was built in the seventeenth century then abandoned after the revolution and not lived in again until the 1950s, so all the original architecture and cobblestones still exist.

Half way into our journey we stopped at the Salt Cathedral of Zipaquirá. Here the miners had decided to honor the productivity of the salt mine by building a cathedral underground. Not all the group went - Ollie thought this wasn't worth paying £4 to see, but I was intrigued. We headed down into the opening of the mine to be greeted by carved salt steps, with blue lights illuminating the crystals in the angel and cross carvings. It was a labyrinth of high corridors and huge chapels with giant salt alters. I thought it was mystical and impressive, some Catholics thought it was offensive (being underground where hell is meant to be - freaks), either way, well worth my 4 quid.

The next stop Ollie enjoyed and I hated, we stopped along one of the highways to buy fresh strawberries and homemade cream. I had some strawberries; Ollie had mainly cream with a strawberry topping.

Dusk was fast approaching as we pulled into Villa de Leyva. It took us a long time to reach the small hacienda we were staying in, as the narrow streets challenged the skills of our coach driver, but we made it in the end. The hacienda owner took us on a quick town tour (it was dark by this point, by the end of it we still had no idea what Villa de Leyva looked like) but we did see the old mill, old brewery and church. And fell over the old cobblestones.

Back at the hacienda a local band greeted us and played music around the campfire while we drank the local sugar cane alcohol 'aguardiente' (like weak sambuca) served warm with cinnamon.

The next morning we were going rapelling so got into our mucky clothes ready for a 50m decline into the La Romera cave. 6 of us got into the back of a small jeep and endured the hour long drive to the cave location - remember roads are pot-holed dirt tracks here; the drive was painful. We all got into our harnesses and one by one abseiled down into the cave. After the cannoning the other week I felt like a bit of a pro, jumping down most of it and really enjoying it. Ollie went smoothly too, however one of the guys just couldn't get the hang of it and basically ended up upside down, lying sideways on the rock face, infact any position that you can't actually absail in. We walked for an hour or so in the cave that was actually more of a huge cavern once you were down, saw a family of bats sleeping and got really, really muddy. As I was walking through the cave the guide told us it had only one entrance and exit, (the way we entered) they used to chuck unfaithful females in the cave as punishment. Nice. Never the mans fault is it?!? This is when it occurred to me - how the hell do we get out. He said climb, I laughed "no really- how we get out?". Straight-faced "climb" he repeated. I learnt there was a small pulley system, but people had to climb out first to use it. Ollie volunteered to be one of the first to climb out unaided to help with the pulley. "Crap", I thought, we're doomed to live in cave, but fair play to him he lived up to his monkey man name and shot up the 50m cliff like Spiderman on a sugar rush. The last guy was the one who couldn't absail, he can't climb either. It was taking an average of 10mins to get up, 40min in he was hanging half way up saying he couldn’t feel his arms and the guys on the pulley couldn't lift him without his help. I couldn't do anything but laugh, I know, tempting fate, cos I'd not had my go yet, but it was seeing his dead weight dangling and the guys sweating and swearing on the pulley that had me in stitches. When it came to my go I think the pulley boys had a bit of a system going cos as soon as the guide said 'ready' I found myself launched halfway up the cliff in some kind of cartoon reverse bungee, telling them to slow down while I tried to avoid oncoming branches. I made the top in less than 2min.

We stopped at Angel Step on the way back that afternoon. It was pouring with rain as we followed a small path on top of a ridge between two valleys. As we came to the highest point the path narrows to only 30cm with a 150m sheer drop into a river one side and a 250m sheer drop the other. The guide told us to walk over it on the right, as the left was overhanging and unstable. I looked at it, turned round, and refused to walk over it. If I’m not jumping off it, or abseilling off it, hell, if I've not got a rope attached to me I'm taking no chances.

The next day I realised I must have done some climbing when I had to get Ollie to help me get dressed cos I couldn't lift my arms above my head.

Our flight from Ipiales to Bogota was delayed so we played cards at the airport till the propeller plane arrived to take us to the Colombian capital. It was lunch by the time we got to Bogota so we ate a quick bite at the airport (my second McDonald's in 10 years, and the same price as England) and got a minibus to our hotel. The Jewish-run hotel we were at had beds with mattresses harder than coffee table. Actually, I think coffee tables are softer. Dont do what Tamar did and jump onto the bed to relax - youll end up breaking your arse bone. We didn't have time to relax though, as we were met by the tourist police to be taken on a tour of the city. It felt funny walking around with 3 too-young looking, armed policemen as they showed us the important buildings in the Old Town area. We stood and had photos taken with the president's guards outside his presidential palace. A couple of street sellers and beggars came up to us in the main square and they were scared off by the tourist police's stern stare. Simon Bolivar is an important man in South America, as he headed the resistance against the Spanish and eventually won independence. He was from Colombia and nearly every important building or statue has something to do with him. Even the country Bolivia is named after him.

Because of the McDonalds we had earlier, we couldn't afford to go out for the group meal so had some disgusting local food called 'arepas' instead from a dirty local restaurant. Arepas are basically flour and sweetcorn mashed up and grilled, with salt-flavoured cheese inside and melted margarine. Dee liked the bland, powderey taste however and she ate mine while I went hungry.

The border crossing to Colombia was uneventful. This was the last trip in the truck for a while and Tamar and Noel handed the keys over to an ex Dragoman driver who was arranging the transport through Colombia. On the way to the border town of Ipiales we stopped at a church which is built at the bottom of a valley, the Sanctuary of the Virgin of Las Lajas. There is a stone in the wall of the valley which is apparently able to perform miracles, and the church is built around it. There is also a small museum which we didn't go in but apparently has a dead 5-legged cow inside. I'm not sure what that has to do with either the church, God or miracles, but maybe its the next evolutionary step for cattle. It would certainly make the Sunday roast go further.

If there is one thing you must learn about Ipiales it is that it is a dump. We went out to a restaurant for a group meal and to our dismay it was as expensive as Chile. A steak dinner with 2 beers was over £10 - and this was a cheap & nasty local restaurant. Our £15 a day budget wasn't going to go very far in Colombia.

On the way back to the hotel we noticed a lot of armed forces around our hotel. We were thinking Colombia is taking this crackdown on crime seriously and when we got into our hotel it was full of men in uniforms with huge AK47s. Some people were visibly very scared by this, as the men were banging on doors and demanding loudly in Spanish to see passports. We had been warned that the national guard sometimes take tourist's passports and demand money to return them, so we were hesitant to hand them over. Tamar explained that kidnapping from Equador into Colombia is common, so they wanted to see our passport stamps to prove lawful entry. Once we started to show the passports they got disinterested and left, but, for a while, we thought we were in some big trouble.

Hungover from the night before, I took my anti-malarial tablet which I had forgotten to take in my drunken stupor. A while later, when we were getting ready to leave on the truck, I found out why you shouldn't take these pills on an empty stomach - I had to rush off the truck and puke on the street in front of all the new recruits.

On the way to Otavalo, we stopped at a museum at the equator. Everyone shuffled around quietly, feeling the effects of the night before. All we knew about this museum was that they prove the water & plughole theory by draining a sinkful of water on the equator, then moving it either side of the equatorial line to show that it circles down the plughole in different directions in different hemispheres. On the way to the museum I had stubbornly said I didn't believe it to be true (I actually exclaimed that it was b*llocks), but seeing it done in front of us, many people were amazed and laughed at me for being a doubter. It wasn't until I could get to the internet that I found out it was a trick. Of course, I sent everyone the link and gloated that I was right, but I think I was the only that cared. We were shown some other equator experiments (also tricks), like balancing an egg on a nail (which supposedly can only be done at the equator) and also a bizarre trick that 'proves' it is easier to pull someone’s arms down on the equatorial line because you are lighter. Codswallop.

We were shown a few exhibits about indigenous tribes around the equator, including a real shrunken head from an Ecuadorian Amazon tribe. Around the open air museum were fake flowers for hummingbirds, and we spotted a couple drinking the nectar, their wings moving in a blur.

Once at Otavalo, we were tempted to get up at 6am to see the cattle market, but we needed a lie in after the full day hangover yesterday. It was Saturday, market day in Otavalo, so when we got up we headed into town. The atmosphere was very different to when we were here last time. The town was completely unrecognisable, as market stalls lined every street and people were walking around with arms full of live chickens or newly purchased pigs on leads. It was a perfect time to do present shopping, as it was possible to buy items from all around South America, including Alpaca clothes, Silver jewelery and all sorts of Native American arts & crafts. We spent the day bartering with the Native American stall owners and buying gifts and souvenirs. I bought a couple of Galapagos t-shirts for half the price that they were on the islands.

We were crossing the border to Colombia the next day and we won't see the truck again till Venezuela. In Colombia we would be flying from city to city because it is too dangerous to go by road, so we loaded up all non-essentials onto the truck and hoped they will still be there by the time the truck came out the other side of Colombia.

After the wonder of the Galapagos we were a little disappointed to return to the concrete pick-pocketing jungle of Quito and after the Galapagos, we had spent up! Ollie ran straight to an internet café, "Got to upload the photos, I’ll see you tonight" and so I was left wondering what to do with myself. He spent two days solid in that internet café, I couldn’t get him out for love nor money. I window shopped, read books, watched bad cheesey cable movies and treated myself to an expensive imported English magazine. It was a wonderful two days. We found a pizza place that did a beer, salad and pizza for US$3.80 so lived there at meal times.

The last night in Quito was actually the first night of the next leg and we had new people joining so we all went out for a group meal. At a Mongolian grill, you pick your food and sauces and they stir-fry it in front of you. This was a brilliant choice for us as it was a set price, eat AND DRINK as much as you want . I had huge bowls of tofu and maize, Ollie had bowls of meat, meat and calamari and meat. The cocktails were included in the 'AND DRINK' bit, so the whole group took great advantage of this. I was on Godfathers (whiskey and amaretto) and Ollie was on Black Russians. It was quarter final night for football and Quito had just won against Boca Juniors and so the streets were full of people celebrating, jumping on cars and dancing in the streets and piling into restaurants to continue the fun, which gave the place a great atmosphere. Everyone was wasted after 3 hours of free cocktails and we all piled into a local salsa club. After a few hours boogying we headed back, the streets were still lively with people and so we took a risk by actually walking the 3 blocks home after a great night.

So, this being our last day on the Galapagos we decided to make the most of it. After leisurely waking in the lovely hotel that cost us a fortune here on Santa Cruz, we decided to hire snorkel gear and walk round to a bay close to Puerto Ayora called "Tortuga bay". You have to walk to the other side of town and then through a dry forest for approx 6km to reach the bay, although it doesn’t stop there, as that water has strong currents, you then have to walk a further 4km round to the sheltered bay. We were both dripping with sweat by the time we arrived; it was a humid hot one. The bay is beautiful, white sands and amazing blue clear water with big white waves, ghost crabs peeking out of their little holes at us and marine iguanas enjoying the sun. As you round the tip of the bay youre greeted with mangroves and a cactus forest which opens onto a small secluded beach. It was really green and luscious, the sea changing from bright blue to an emerald green color. Although, due to its secluded nature and the mangroves, the water was not clear, in fact, if you stood in the sea to your knees you couldn’t see your toes anymore, so the possibility of snorkeling was quickly put to an end.

Ollie was sulking at this point, "it’s the last day on the Galapagos and we’re just going to sit on a beach and look at marine iguanas...". So, I being nice, stopped enjoying my wonderful white idealistic beach and sun tan session and agreed to walk ALL the way back to town with him, to try and catch a boat trip for the afternoon. This would have been fine but it gave us one hour to walk all the way back, in the midday sun, high humidity and 35 degrees. Not fun. I ended up sulking at the end "I don’t even like snorkeling, what’s wrong with sunbathing, my feet hurt..." with Ollie grinning cos he’d made it in time.

So at 2pm we set off on a small rowing boat, 7 of us onboard to head out snorkeling for the afternoon. At first we had a guy who was telling us about what we were going to see and he spoke English. As we left the harbor he jumped off the boat, said " have fun" and left us with the driver of the boat, he spoke no English, sounded like he didn’t really speak Spanish that well either and he was nicknamed "Colombia" for obvious reasons. The sea was quite rough and as we reached the first little island just outside Puerto Ayora, one of the other guys felt really sea sick, he’d still got about 4 hours to go, I don’t think he was having fun.

The island we had arrived at had a small sea lion colony and we had anchored here to jump in and swim with them. We jumped in, and waited, I shivered, and waited, and the sea lions just sat looking at us thinking "just eaten mate, come back in an hour". Colombia reassured us in whatever language he was speaking that we were going to see lots more and set off driving straight into waves, rocking the boat and making the other guy sicker. We anchored at the edge of a rocky cliff and Colombia told us to swim down the channel inland. So we all set off just as I heard him go "its called the shark channel", so I wonder what were going to see in here then....

The channel was 2m wide at the entrance and just got narrower but went inland for a good 20m or so, with high rocky walls on either side. The water was clear and only a couple of meters deep so as I swam further and saw the huge shark shape laying on the floor under me it was quite daunting. There’s no real room for it to swim around you and the channel is a dead end. These were the common white tipped sharks we have seen before but larger than the ones we saw prior. As we swam down the channel sharks would be swimming towards you to get back to the ocean and you felt like they were coming right at you. Amazing. I counted around 8 in total, 3 really big ones, around 1.5m and rest smaller but no less menacing. It made up for the poor sea lion turnout. I went and got back on the boat at this point as I had turned into an icecube and Ollie carried on snorkeling into the ocean. He suddenly starts shouting at me “Dee, Dee, come and look at this”. I was on the boat already, wrapped in a towel, satisfied with my days sightings, and didn’t really want to see anything else (or get wet again). Then he starts, like, going mental,”you´ve got to come, now, hurry”. So I grudgingly jumped into the coldness again thinking “this better be a talking dolphin or something equally good”. As I swam towards him I made out a dark shape hovering in the vast blueness out in front of me, as I got closer it was a huge sea turtle caught in a sunbeam around 2m underwater. Looked breathtaking. He’d been right, it was worth it.

We hoped back onto the boat and Colombia took us in-between the rocks towards a cactus forest, the canal of love, he called it. More like the canal of discomfort and pain with the size of the horse flies eating me alive. A short walk through the cactus forest allowed us to see the marine iguana nests (good) and feed the mosquitoes (bad) before we headed back into Puerto Ayora at sunset. We caught a few cheeky pirate sea lions trying to steal someone’s boat and thanked Colombia for a great afternoon. He’d been right, it was better than sunbathing.

It truly is a uniquely special place.