I could imagine how perplexed Darwin must’ve been, because these islands birthed some real freaks of nature: On our climb we passed boobies with bright red or electric blue feet. On Española Island I nearly trampled a tangle of marine iguanas, which have scabby red and green skin, like oversized Christmas sweaters. Minutes later, an albatross as large as a kite nearly crash-landed at my feet. (Such face-plants account for a microscopic percentage of albatross mortalities, Sánchez told me later.) There were Martian landscapes on Bartolomé Island, where Galápagos penguins and sea lions joined us on our snorkeling trip. The creatures became stranger still in the highlands of Santa Cruz, where we picnicked among Galápagos giant tortoises that grazed on leaves and moved at the pace of a toothless centenarian, huffing and puffing with every bite.
I wondered how much they’d seen their home turf change over their century-long lifespan. While 97% of the Galápagos have been under National Park protection since 1959, the archipelago isn’t without threats. It takes only one stowaway rat or crop-destroying snail to wipe out an entire species. Human activity such as fishing, farming, and, increasingly, tourism, threatens the scalloped hammerhead shark and pink land iguana.
For the conservation-minded andBeyond, this was another reason to tread lightly. Unlike the 100-passenger ships we saw passing by, the Galápagos Explorer holds just 12 guests, spread over six spacious cabins that are adorned with vintage-map prints and scientific wildlife illustrations. This allows a guide-to-guest ratio of one to six, which, according to Kent, is the lowest among all ships that sail here.
Since finishing its first cruise season, andBeyond has begun looking ahead. “We’ll complete a full needs analysis of the area and communities we impact,” Kent said. Projects underway include the Galápagos Whale Shark Project; the Pescado Azul Women’s Association, which promotes artisanal fishing around the archipelago; and a South American extension of andBeyond’s maritime conservation program, Oceans Without Borders. Kent said that the company had also found an area on Santa Cruz for indigenous tree planting, which would protect the ecosystem, prevent soil erosion, and offset the ship’s carbon footprint.
A running joke about the crew members is that all of them are endemic. From chef Adrian Segura, who whipped up empanadas and seco de pollo chicken stew from largely local ingredients, to Adrián Tenorio, the cheerful bartender who was quick with a post-hot-tub piña colada, everyone was proudly galápagueño.
When I returned to the airport, I saw a familiar face in the lounge: A land iguana, perhaps the same one I’d seen before, had sauntered in as if it had a boarding pass. It scrambled over the rattan sofa next to mine before disappearing into the ladies’ washroom. Moments later, a guard emerged, wrestling the unruly reptile. The iguana thrashed and hissed, defiant to the end: a vivid reminder of the perpetual tug-of-war between man and nature—and a perfect Galápagoan goodbye.
This article appeared in the April 2025 issue of Condé Nast Traveler. Subscribe to the magazine here.
