The Galapagos Islands are some of the most unusual islands I have ever visited. They are famous for the wildlife that helped inspire Charles Darwin’s ideas about evolution, and many of the animals found here evolved in isolation from their relatives elsewhere in the world. The result is a place filled with animals that either exist nowhere else or behave in ways that seem completely out of place anywhere else.
Marine iguanas swim through the ocean, penguins live among lava and cacti, giant tortoises can survive for more than a century, and wildlife often seems remarkably unconcerned by the people standing nearby. What surprised me just as much was the landscape itself. The Galapagos aren’t simply tropical islands covered in lush vegetation. Depending on the island and elevation, I encountered everything from barren lava fields and dry cactus-covered terrain to surprisingly green forests.

Bartolomé Island was one of the most scenic places I visited. From the high ground, I could look across the volcanic landscape toward Pinnacle Rock, the narrow beaches and the surrounding islands. It is one of the classic views of the Galapagos and immediately shows just how volcanic and rugged these islands really are.

At sea level, Pinnacle Rock dominates the shoreline. The beaches and blue water might look tropical, but the barren volcanic hills behind them make the landscape look almost desert-like.

My first views of the Galapagos actually weren’t very impressive. Much of the shoreline I initially saw consisted of dead-looking trees, dry shrubs and sparse vegetation. At first glance, I never would have guessed that these islands were one of the world’s great wildlife destinations.

As I traveled inland and gained elevation, however, the landscape began changing. The vegetation became larger and greener, while the temperature noticeably dropped. The contrast over such a short distance was remarkable.

By the time I reached the higher interior of Santa Cruz Island, the dry coastal landscape had been replaced by a cool, damp forest. Moss covered the trees and the environment felt almost completely disconnected from the barren terrain I had seen closer to the ocean.

Nearby were Los Gemelos, or the Twin Craters. Despite their appearance, these huge depressions weren’t formed as volcanic craters. They were created when underground cavities collapsed. The scale was difficult to judge in photographs—the vegetation at the bottom might look like small plants, but many of them are actually full-sized trees.

Volcanism created the Galapagos, and in many places that origin is still completely exposed. Plants have colonized much of the islands over time, but some species are able to survive in places where there appears to be almost no soil at all. Lava cactus was one of the plants I saw growing directly from the volcanic terrain.

Other areas were still almost completely barren. Black lava stretched toward the water with only scattered vegetation beginning to establish itself. Seeing landscapes at different stages of colonization made it much easier to understand how isolated ecosystems could develop here over long periods of time.

The wildlife wasn’t limited to the land. The water surrounding the Galapagos was incredibly clear in places, making schools of fish visible directly beneath the surface and attracting an enormous amount of marine life.

People do live permanently in the Galapagos, although most of the archipelago remains protected. I regret not taking more photographs of the towns themselves, but the wildlife had no problem wandering into the areas used by people. These sea lions had apparently decided that someone’s boat was as good a place as any to relax.

Even animals as ordinary as crabs seemed more colorful here. Bright red and orange crabs were common along the rocky shoreline, where they moved easily across the uneven volcanic terrain.

In some places there were entire groups of them living together on the lava rocks. Their bright bodies stood out dramatically against the black volcanic coastline.

Birds were everywhere. The relatively open terrain made many species easy to spot, whether they were flying along the cliffs, nesting on the rocks or following our boats between the islands.

The cliffs provided nesting areas for huge numbers of seabirds. At times there seemed to be something flying overhead almost everywhere I looked.

Frigatebirds were particularly noticeable when we traveled by boat. They seemed to enjoy following us, sometimes remaining directly overhead until we were close to shore.

The variety of birds was one of the most impressive parts of the islands. This swallow-tailed gull was one of many species I was able to photograph at surprisingly close range.

Red-billed tropicbirds were much more dramatic in flight, with long tail feathers trailing behind them as they flew away from the cliffs.

Of all the birds I saw, the Galapagos penguins were among the strangest simply because of where they lived. Penguins are normally associated with Antarctica and other cold environments, yet here they were surrounded by black lava under a tropical sun.

Seeing a penguin with a cactus in the background looked almost wrong. The Galapagos penguin survives this far north because cold ocean currents bring nutrient-rich water to the islands, creating conditions completely different from what the tropical latitude would suggest.

Pelicans were also common around the islands. Some stood quietly in the shallows while others gathered wherever schools of fish appeared near the surface.

I watched one feeding frenzy where pelicans and other birds converged on a school of fish. For a place famous for animals that often appear completely relaxed, the scene became chaotic as soon as food was involved.

Sea lions were another animal I encountered repeatedly. They could be found on beaches, rocks, docks and apparently anywhere else they decided looked comfortable.

One of the most memorable things about the Galapagos was how close I could get to wildlife without the animals immediately disappearing. The sea lions often seemed far less concerned about my presence than I was about theirs.

This pup looked like it couldn’t have been very old at all. Encounters like this were almost constant, and after a while it became easy to forget how unusual it was to see wild animals at such close range.

Others seemed to spend most of their time sleeping. With the equatorial sun overhead, any available patch of shade was apparently worth claiming.

The reptiles were even more distinctive. Land iguanas live in the dry interior and feed heavily on vegetation, including the cacti that dominate parts of the islands.

The dark marine iguanas were completely different. They are unique to the Galapagos and have adapted to feeding in the ocean, swimming through the water before returning to the black lava to warm themselves in the sun. Watching a large lizard voluntarily disappear into the ocean was one of those sights that made the Galapagos feel unlike anywhere else.

Lizards were everywhere, sometimes in places I didn’t expect. At one point I found this one sitting directly on top of my backpack. The animals here had spent so long evolving with relatively little threat from humans that many seemed almost indifferent to us.

Another land iguana had somehow climbed high into a cactus and was eating it. Considering how heavily armed the cactus was with spines, it didn’t look like a particularly inviting meal to me.

While walking along a beach, I came across these unusual tracks and initially assumed they had been made by some type of bird. I didn’t realize what had actually created them until I saw the animal responsible.

A large marine iguana eventually passed by, leaving exactly the same trail behind it. Its feet produced the marks on either side while its long tail dragged through the sand between them.

Not all of the reptiles were giant iguanas. Smaller lava lizards were common as well, darting across rocks and hunting insects.

Different populations of lava lizards developed across the archipelago, another example of how isolation between islands helped produce the biological diversity that made the Galapagos famous.

The insects could be just as colorful. Painted grasshoppers were among the prey available to the islands’ smaller lizards.

I managed to photograph one of the lava lizards with its catch. I’m still not sure exactly what species of insect it had found, but the lizard certainly didn’t seem concerned about identifying it before eating it.

The most famous reptiles of all are the Galapagos giant tortoises. Different populations evolved on different islands, and adults can become enormous, with some weighing several hundred pounds and living for more than a century.

I watched this young tortoise attempt to climb across the rocky ground only to fall onto its back. Being overturned can be extremely dangerous for a tortoise, but fortunately this one eventually managed to right itself and continue on its way.

The adults were on a completely different scale. Some giant tortoises live beyond 100 years, meaning individuals alive today can have been wandering these islands since long before most of the people visiting them were born.

Seeing the giant tortoises was a fitting end to my time exploring the wildlife of the Galapagos. They have become symbols of the islands, but what stayed with me was just how many other unusual animals I encountered alongside them.
Before visiting, I mostly associated the Galapagos with Darwin, giant tortoises and a few famous species I had seen in documentaries. Being there was completely different. Penguins stood beside cacti, marine iguanas crawled out of the ocean, sea lions slept wherever they pleased, birds followed our boats, and the landscape could change from barren lava to green forest over a surprisingly short distance.
The Galapagos were far stranger and more varied than I had expected. The wildlife is obviously the main reason to come, but seeing the volcanic landscapes and the different environments that shaped those animals made the experience much more interesting than simply checking species off a list. Few places I have visited made the relationship between geography, isolation and wildlife so obvious.