Galapagos
Galapagos has always been a magic word for me ever since reading about the islands and watching a television programme about them, as a young boy. The programme was called Look, by Sir Peter Scott, a naturalists travelogue of exploration, long before ecotourism arrived on our shores. In it I saw exotic reptiles and birds massed in profusion, apparently tame in the presence of humans, and wild beaches fit for a castaway, a Robinson Crusoe paradise.
Every journey to these 'Enchanted Isles' has been a journey back in time. There is a visceral sense of belonging here, but why? Perhaps in recognition of our pelagic origins or because the atmospheres of salt and sea mist, unearthly animal encounters, desiccated rock, cacti, guarno and velvet starlight are an intoxicating mix for the senses, like being afloat amongst a thousand arching dolphins, and being carried to another world.
