On Common Ground

Since the time of Charles Darwin, the world has heard of the unadulterated, natural beauty of the Galapagos Islands. What often comes as a surprise is the fact that the islands are also home to several thousand individuals of the homo sapiens species who can trace their heritage back to dozens of tales, from shipwrecks to political exile.

Floreana is one of these such, inhabited islands. Depending on the number of fishermen at sea, about 125 people can call Floreana home.

All arrivals to the island come by boat - disembarking onto a simple, concrete slab that juts out into the harbor. On the platform, as well as the surrounding rocky coast, dozens of marine iguanas soak up the sun like carefree tourists at an oceanside resort.

The island’s sole town, Puerto Velasco Ibarra, is nestled a hundred-odd yards from the harbor. The sparse, hand-built town is full of color: from the vibrant blues of the sea, to the colorful boats and buoys in the harbor, and even the spotted geckos scurrying up walls of the only hotel. The cluster of manmade structures and unpaved roads stand together, just beyond the turquoise ocean and afore an uninhabited stretch of land that extends to the distant mountains.

On Floreana, the beaches and snorkeling are unbeatable. In addition, local guides lead forays inland that will not disappoint if one appreciates hiking through untouched land and 365-degree views of sea and sky. But there are even deeper hidden gems in the little-known lives and stories of the Galapagueños themselves.

Friends are not hard to make, as visitors are still a novelty. As a group of college students, we found ourselves in great demand among the locals. My humble Spanish could not entirely appease the curiosities of the local children, nor answer their plethora of questions. What’s more, their parents and grandparents were eager to tell of their lives, carving a living out of such desolate beauty. They, like others past and present, desiring to perpetuate the oral tradition of their own human story.

Every night we would stop to play barefoot soccer on the beach with children who have never known anything but this isolated paradise, yet would play by the same rules and with the same zeal that I once did as a child, worlds away on a manicure field.

And so, in a place where I was to study ecological diversity, the irony is that one of my greatest takeaways was discovering the depth and the prolific power of the common ground beneath the human story.