Gibraltar itself represents a geographical and political anomaly, a British Overseas Territory situated on the southern tip of the Iberian Peninsula, just across the Strait of Gibraltar from Morocco. As we drove closer, the landscape transformed completely, and soon we could see what defines the entire region: the Rock of Gibraltar towering massively above everything else, its limestone bulk rising over 400 metres above sea level.

First Glimpse: Europa Point and the Southern Edge

Our initial stop was Europa Point, the southernmost tip of Gibraltar, a flat, rocky headland that marks the boundary between the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea. The point gets its name from the mythological figure Europa.

Near Europa Point sits Gorham’s Cave Complex, a cluster of archaeological sites. The complex consists of caves situated at sea level, each containing archaeological and palaeontological deposits spanning over 100,000 years of Neanderthal occupation. In 2016, this site received UNESCO World Heritage status, earning its designation because of the exceptional evidence it holds about how Neanderthals lived. We tried making a spontaneous visit, only to be turned away as the site operates on an extremely restricted access system, with a three-year waiting list to gain entry for serious visitors. The limited access, while unfortunate for us, reflects the delicate nature of these sites, where any uncontrolled traffic would risk disturbing irreplaceable scientific evidence.

The Monkeys on the Mountain: Encounters with Barbary Macaques

As we ventured toward St Michael’s Cave, ascending the winding paths through the Upper Rock Nature Reserve, we began encountering the Rock’s most famous residents: the Barbary macaques. They represent Europe’s only free-living wild monkey population.

Tourists constantly attempted to feed them, despite clear warnings. The animals have learned to exploit this human generosity, demonstrating remarkable problem-solving by unzipping bags and rifling through pockets in search of food.

The Cathedral Beneath the Rock: St Michael’s Cave

The path to St Michael’s Cave climbs steeply on a well-paved road for thirty minutes before reaching the entrance. Several lookout points along the way made the walk up less of a grind.

The cave system itself is a network of interconnected chambers carved over millions of years by rainwater slowly percolating through limestone. Today, the largest chamber functions as a space for hosted concerts, theatrical productions, and opera performances. The cave derives much of its visual drama from its extensive formations of stalactites and stalagmites – mineral-rich water dripping from the ceiling deposits layer upon layer of dissolved rock, gradually building downward from the roof while simultaneously building upward from the floor. Some stalactites hang like pale icicles; others have fused with stalagmites rising to meet them, creating continuous columns of mineral deposit.

The name derives from a similar grotto in Monte Gargano, Italy, where – according to Catholic tradition – the Archangel Michael made an appearance. This connection explains why the cave carries religious significance despite being fundamentally a geological formation rather than a sacred site in the traditional sense.

An installation called “The Awakening,” a light and sound show, transformed the cave into an additional cultural experience. Within this light installation appears an ethereal figure – an angel formed by the projection mapping technology and the natural rock formations.

A Short Stay

Despite the natural and historical richness of what Gibraltar offers, we didn’t linger longer than a few hours. Tourism in Gibraltar often works this way – the territory is small, and its main attractions cluster around the Rock. Many visitors arrive on day trips from southern Spain, explore the key sites, and then depart. We were no different. We faced a 4.5-hour drive toward Granada, leaving Gibraltar behind and transitioning into the landscapes of inland Andalusia.

See more of Gibraltar here

We strolled through the lush highlands while our naturalist guide shared intriguing insights. Birds, including finches, often peck at algae or parasites growing on tortoise shells. Interestingly, they appear to leave a marker – possibly guano -to indicate to themselves or other birds that the area has already been picked clean.

A particularly captivating story the guide shared was about how the tortoises may have arrived on the islands. Some have been spotted floating at sea, buoyed by their shells. While saltwater ingestion typically proves fatal, a few may have survived the journey by avoiding it and eventually colonized the islands. Once here, they nested and established themselves over millennia.

Around the ranch, the scenery surprised us with its variety of fruit trees – papaya, passionfruit, and banana trees all grew nearby. These tropical plants thrive in the fertile volcanic soil of Santa Cruz, but we don’t see anything like them where we live.

As we left, a tortoise blocked the road—unhurried and unmoved by the vehicle. We had no choice but to drive around it, but it was kind of comical that it happened.

We felt immense gratitude to have experienced this cruise. The landscapes and wildlife felt remarkably undisturbed. Throughout our time on the islands, we did not see a single piece of litter. Nature here, however, is far from static. Our guide explained how El Niño and La Niña events can devastate local ecosystems. One such event wiped out over 90% of the coral. In ten years, climate shifts may again alter the islands in unpredictable ways.

Weather and ocean conditions were on our side. Due to the Coriolis effect, trade winds and ocean currents in the Galápagos usually flow from the southeast, driving the cool, nutrient-rich Humboldt Current from South America. These currents support a dense food web, influencing where wildlife can thrive and which islands are most biologically productive.

Our itinerary allowed us to see 12 out of the 15 recognized Galápagos species. We missed only the Galápagos albatross, flightless cormorant, and Santa Fe land iguana, which inhabit islands not included in our route. The sites on the islands weren’t arbitrarily chosen. The Galápagos National Park authorities control which vessels can visit which sites on which days, aiming to limit environmental impact and spread tourism evenly.

Each day followed a brisk schedule. Mornings often began at 6 or 7am with breakfast, followed by a midday break and lunch around 12pm. Dinner was served at 8pm. The tempo kept us moving constantly. By the end, we joked that we needed a vacation after the vacation.

Before heading home, we spent one final night in Quito before heading back. At the airport the next morning, we got to try chocolate from República del Cacao. This Ecuadorian company is a certified B Corporation, which means it meets high standards for social and environmental performance, accountability, and transparency. The chocolate itself was excellent, and is a testament to the country’s cacao heritage.

See here for more photos of tortoise reserve here

Often referred to as “Bird Island,” Genovesa supports immense colonies of seabirds, making it one of the most densely populated bird habitats in the Galápagos.

An Island Full of Birds

Genovesa is a sanctuary for seabirds, and nowhere is that more obvious than along the Prince Philip’s Steps trail. From the moment we landed, it felt like we were walking through a live aviary. Every few feet revealed different birds. First, we saw the Nazca boobies. These large, white seabirds with black-tipped wings and yellow eyes are one of the iconic “Big 15” species of the Galápagos. We saw both attentive parents and their fuzzy, down-covered chicks. Some of the chicks were already testing out their wings, flapping them clumsily as they stood in place.

The Nazca boobies didn’t seem to care about our presence. Some sat in the middle of the trail, forcing us to detour. They didn’t beg for food or try to flee. It was clear we were in their space. They looked at us with curiosity, as if evaluating our behaviour. One was even attracted to the bright coloured shoes of someone in our group. We joked at the bird was imprinting on them.

We also encountered several red-footed boobies up close (another Big 15 of the Galápagos ). Unlike the Nazca or blue-footed boobies, red-footed boobies are smaller and more agile in flight, using their dexterity to catch flying fish. They are also the only booby species in the Galápagos that nest in trees, thanks to their strong, grasping feet. Their nesting behaviour allows them to avoid the crowded ground-level colonies favoured by other species.

We also observed many great frigatebirds nesting. We had the fortunate of seeing the males with their red throat sacs inflated like balloons. However, we didn’t see the closely related magnificent frigatebird, which looks nearly identical but differs subtly in iridescent sheen and eye ring.

Further along the trail, we also spotted one of the iconic Darwin’s finches. This one was a brown finch, and though we knew it belonged to one of the local species, it was remarkably difficult to tell whether it was the small, medium, or large ground finch. These species differ primarily by the size and shape of their beaks, which have adapted to different types of seeds. In the field, even seasoned naturalists can find it tricky to differentiate them without observing feeding behaviour or using binoculars to compare subtle proportions. Genovesa is home to several of these species.

Spotting Rarities with a Naturalist’s Eye

We were lucky to be hiking with someone in our group who had spent decades as a professional naturalist. Her eye for detail helped us spot species we would have otherwise missed, including Galápagos doves nestled in a rocky crevice.

Our naturalist companion was able to spot the elusive short-eared owl. The short-eared owl is the only owl on Genovesa and is a daytime hunter, adapted to prey on storm petrels that nest in the island’s lava crevices. Seeing one is considered a highlight by bird enthusiasts.

She spotted this owl even when swarms of birds circled the crater. From a distance it looked like hundreds, maybe more.

I asked the guide how often people got pooped on by birds, and he said “all the time”.

How Did the Birds Get Here?

As we observed the vast diversity of birdlife on Genovesa, a natural question arose: how did all these birds get here in the first place? Genovesa, like all the Galápagos Islands, is of volcanic origin and has never been connected to any continent. That means every species had to arrive by sea or air. In the case of birds, it’s a mix of seabirds and land birds that flew in from the mainland over generations.

Seabirds like the Nazca booby, red-footed booby, and great frigatebird are strong fliers capable of covering vast distances over open ocean. They likely reached the archipelago by chance during migration or storms, eventually settling and breeding. Unlike land birds, which evolved in relative isolation after their ancestors arrived, many seabirds still travel between islands or even back to mainland South America during their lifetimes.

Land birds, such as the Galápagos dove and finches, probably arrived in earlier periods via rafting or wind dispersal and then adapted to island life. Their more limited range makes their evolution within the islands more distinct and well-documented.

Circumnavigating the Crater

After the hike, we boarded zodiacs for a ride around the inner edge of the caldera to get a better sense of its geologic origins. The steep, eroded walls of the crater revealed layers of volcanic tuff – compressed ash from past eruptions. In places, erosion had carved angular overhangs and caves. The crater rim is breached on one side, allowing the ocean to flood in and creating a calm anchorage for small vessels like ours.

Along the cliff face and the trees above, we continued to see more birds nesting. There were even some marine iguanas resting on rocks.

Courting Frigates and a Nap in the Sand

After lunch, we embarked on another short nature. Right as we began, we passed a sea lions sprawled out comfortably on the sand, fast asleep. They lay there without a care in the world, entirely unfazed by our presence. Many Galápagos animals are not concerned with human visitors, as long as we respect their space.

As we continued, we came across a group of nesting frigatebirds in full courtship display, with their bright red throat sacs fully inflated. They flapped their wings, made rattling calls, and shook their inflated sacs in dramatic fashion – all in an effort to catch the eye of a passing female. The sounds and motions were loud and theatrical.

Our guide mentioned research into their mating behaviours, including experiments where scientists altered the appearance of the sacs by painting them blue. Surprisingly, the colour change didn’t seem to affect female interest. In another case, a researcher punctured the sac to study healing – and it reportedly repaired itself within a few days. These stories underscored how much remains unknown about even the most visible species.

A Cloudy Snorkel and Playful Sea Lions

We ended the day with a snorkel along the rocky beach. Unfortunately, the water was too cloudy to see much underwater life. The coarse volcanic rocks made walking on the beach difficult; a few of us got small stones lodged in our flippers, which rubbed uncomfortably against our skin.

But the snorkelling wasn’t the real highlight. Back on shore, a group of sea lions came ashore and began to play. They chased one another, nipped each other’s flippers, rolled onto their backs, and flopped in and out of the surf in an endless loop of games. Their energy and antics entertained us for nearly twenty minutes.

One thing we noticed throughout the trip was the near absence of native terrestrial mammals or amphibians on the islands. Unlike birds or reptiles, which can fly or survive extended periods at sea, most land animals couldn’t make the crossing from the South American mainland. The Galápagos are over 900 kilometres from the coast, and animals unable to float, fly, or raft on vegetation simply never had the chance to colonize these remote islands.

See here to view the full photo album from our day on Genovesa Island.

Rábida: Brackish Lagoons and Flamingos

Our morning began before breakfast with a nature walk on Rábida Island, known for its deep red volcanic sands and its brackish lagoon. The lagoon is home to a small population of American flamingos, one of the Galápagos “Big 15” species. Our guides told us the odds of seeing them were low, so we considered ourselves fortunate to catch several wading gracefully in the shallows.

Among them was a juvenile with distinctive blue legs – a telltale sign of its age. We also got a good look at their black-tipped wings, which I never even knew existed. Flamingos, surprisingly strong fliers, most likely reached the Galápagos from mainland South America. One interesting fact the guides pointed out was how what looks like their knees are actually their ankles. They get their pink colour from their diet.

As we circled the lagoon, we passed a dead seal partially buried in the sand. It wasn’t clear what caused its death, but we didn’t speculate, but it was a stark reminder of the harsh realities of nature.

We returned to the ship for breakfast after our walk. One of the passengers had a health scare that morning; he collapsed on the ground as we were observing the flamingos due to low blood sugar. Thankfully, he recovered quickly. He was lucky that it didn’t happen when we were on more rugged terrain.

Glass-Bottom Boat Ride

After breakfast, we boarded a glass-bottom boat to observe marine life without getting wet. While it sounded ideal in theory, the reality proved less comfortable. The rocking of the boat while staring down made it easy to feel seasick.

Still, we managed to spot a vague silhouette of a shark, and a massive school of fish.

A sea turtle also came to say hi to us

Bartolomé: Snorkelling and Penguins

After lunch, we visited Bartolomé Island, a small but geologically striking islet famous for its towering volcanic spire, known as Pinnacle Rock. We began with a snorkelling session around the base of it.

After several days in the water, I started feeling more at ease, whereas before I never felt comfortable in the water, and this made the session much more enjoyable. We started to swim around the rock. The underwater scenery was rich with life: bright schools of fish, the occasional shark.

As I swam around the rock, I was busy looking around in the water, until I was suddenly startled by a sea lion sleeping near the surface. At first I panicked, but the sea lion paid us no mind. As it swam away, other snorkelers followed it.

Eventually we made it around the rock, and spotted some Galápagos penguins – another member of the “Big 15.” They stayed onshore this time, and we observed them resting on the rocks. It would have been school to swim in the water with them, but they didn’t jump in.

Later we found out that one snorkeller returned with rashes after being unknowingly stung by jellyfish (apparently from a few days ago, but didn’t the rashes didn’t appear immediately). None of us had realized jellyfish were in the water.

Volcanic Landscapes and Iconic Views

Later in the day, we hiked to the summit of Bartolomé to take in its famous view – the one often featured in postcards of the Galápagos. The trail was constructed with a special local hardwood known for its resistance to salt and corrosion. The path included many stairs, which made some hesitate, but was no problem for me. Funny thing is that the guide was panting harder than I was.

As we walked up, the black lava fields and stark, dry terrain stood in contrast to the more vegetated islands. Bartolomé is relatively barren, and is considered a geologically young island, having emerged from volcanic activity only a few hundred thousand years ago. Unlike older islands that have had time to accumulate soil and vegetation, Bartolomé’s surface is still largely exposed lava, ash, and tuff. Because it hasn’t developed significant plant cover or topsoil, its ecosystem remains in an early stage of ecological succession, providing a glimpse into what the earliest phases of island formation look like in the Galápagos.

Lava tubes scar the landscape – formed when the outer crust of a lava flow solidifies while the molten core continues to move. When the lava drains away, it leaves behind hollow tunnels. The ropey textures we saw on the ground were from lava flows, which cool into smooth, undulating surfaces.

The summit offers a sweeping view of Pinnacle Rock and the surrounding islets. From this vantage point, we could also see the contrast between the barren lava terrain of Bartolomé and the greener neighbouring islands like Santiago. The turquoise waters outlined the curves of the coastline, and we could spot sea birds gliding in the air currents.

After the hike, we took a short boat ride along the shoreline and spotted several more Galápagos penguins perched on the rocks. These curious birds seemed unfazed by our presence, occasionally flapping their wings or hopping between stones. We got to see a closer view compared to snorkeling.

Evening Science and Stargazing

Those who had opted out of the climb spent time with the ship’s naturalists collecting seawater samples. After dinner, they showed us the samples under a microscope. Even in just 3 mL of seawater, we saw fish eggs, miniscule shrimp-like creatures, and other microorganisms. Then I wondered how many of them I ingested from accidentally drinking the seawater while snorkeling.

Later that night, the skies cleared and we joined the guides on the top deck for a stargazing session. Thanks to our equatorial position, we could see both northern and southern constellations. The guide used a powerful laser pointer to trace the outlines of Scorpio, Libra, the Southern Cross, and even Ursa Major. They pointed out bright stars and planets like Antares, Alpha Centauri, and Beta Centauri. The clarity of the sky, with minimal light pollution, made the session feel so much richer than at a planetarium. This day was so much more than just wildlife. It combined also geology, and scientific curiosity.

See the photo albums to explore more of Rábida and Bartolomé.

Buccaneer Cove: Of Pirates, Gold, and Birds

One of our first stops was Buccaneer Cove, a site with a storied past. This cove on Santiago Island earned its name from the British pirates and privateers who are said to have used the area as a hideout in the 17th and 18th centuries. While records are murky, tales persist of pirates burying their treasures on the islands, with some modern locals claiming that sudden, unexplained wealth might be due to hidden gold discoveries. Some even say that treasure hunters still try their luck in the archipelago, but much of the island is off limits as part of the nature reserve.

We also learned an intriguing theory from one of our guides: a few pirates may have sketched the various finch species they encountered here. While the link to Darwin is speculative, it adds colour to the idea that knowledge of Galápagos finches existed before Darwin’s famous visit in 1835.

Reading the Rocks and Skies

The cliffs at Buccaneer Cove were a patchwork of rock layers, formed by successive volcanic events. The prominent soft rock here is called tuff – a light, porous stone made from compacted volcanic ash. Though it appears sturdy, it crumbles easily and is unsuitable for climbing – ironically not tough at all.

White splashes of dried seabird guano marked active nesting areas, and sure enough, we spotted swallow-tailed gulls resting nearby. These gulls have unusually large eyes adapted for night vision, allowing them to hunt squid and fish by moonlight. Their red eye-ring and soft, grey plumage made them easy to recognize as they perched calmly along the cliff edges.

Blue-footed boobies also dotted the cliffside. These birds are known for their vivid turquoise-blue feet. Despite being skilled divers and fliers, they move with an awkward, waddling gait on land that makes them oddly endearing. Their nesting behaviour, typically right on bare rock or sand, makes them easy to spot during the breeding season. Potential mates evaluate their “blueness” as it is an indicator of their health. A more intense blue coloration is a sign of better nutrition, health, and immune function.

A curious sea lion followed us part of the way, occasionally surfacing to watch. Like many animals in the Galápagos, it didn’t beg for food or flee at our approach. It simply seemed to want to know what we were doing.

As we continued along the coast, we passed two distinct natural formations. One was what our guide called a ‘prayer rock’—a rounded boulder that looked carefully placed, almost as if set down with intention. The smoothness of its surface and its balanced placement made it look like a deliberate monument, though entirely shaped by nature.

Nearby, the so-called ‘elephant rock’ resembled the head and trunk of an elephant carved naturally over time by wind and sea. Its resemblance was uncanny enough that even at a distance, the shape immediately stood out against the cliffside.

We also glimpsed rays moving below in loose formations, visible only as yellow blurs swimming across beneath the surface. At one point, we caught sight of a land iguana resting near a scrubby outcrop. Our guide noted how lucky we were to see it in that area, since land iguanas are not often spotted from this route and typically stay hidden in less accessible terrain.

Exploring the Cove by Kayak

Later, we had the chance to kayak around the cove. I had tandem kayaked before (I wasn’t good at it), but this time I figure out that successful tandem paddling isn’t about synchronization. Instead, the front paddler provides rhythm and power, while the rear paddler makes adjustments to keep the vessel on course through wind and wave. Synchronizing is actually the wrong thing to do because it doesn’t account for how waves push the boat.

The conditions were manageable, but we did witness somebody’s kayak flipping over.

Puerto Egas Snorkeling

Later, we snorkelled just offshore, where we saw schools of fish swimming around – almost like a National Geographic documentary.

I’m not a strong swimmer and felt pretty uncomfortable in the open water. Even with the flotation gear, it took some effort to push past the initial anxiety and focus on what was in front of me. Seeing the vibrant fish distracted me from the anxiety of being in the water.

I’ve been linking a few of the cruise photographer’s images here and there, but the above is a video of the snorkeling that really shows the vibrant sea life below.

Puerto Egas Nature Walk

In the afternoon, we arrived at Puerto Egas. The terrain here differs from other parts of the islands, combining coarse black lava formations with tide pools, beaches scattered with bleached coral fragments, and hardened ash deposits. Puerto Egas has its own unusual history. In the 1930s, businessman Hector Egas tried to establish a salt-mining operation and even constructed a few buildings here. The enterprise failed, and some locals believe the land itself resists commercial exploitation – a sort of “curse” for those trying to profit from nature rather than respect it.

These coral fragments, according to our guides, are remnants of ancient reefs pushed upward by tectonic forces and long since fossilized.

We were fortunate enough to spot a Galápagos hawk, one of the islands’ apex predators and part of the famed “Big 15” species to look out for. It was perched atop a tall, cylindrical structure that looked like an old salt silo – possibly a remnant of the failed salt-mining enterprise once attempted at Puerto Egas.

A pair of brown pelicans performed a coordinated dive nearby. It was the kind of behaviour that still feels dramatic when witnessed up close. Their timing was precise enough to make me wonder whether it was intentional coordination or just well-honed instinct.

We soon encountered lava lizards darting across our path. They blended so well with the ground that we nearly stepped on them more than once.

Eventually, we spotted a land iguana up close, grazing on nearby vegation. These large reptiles are also on the Big 15 list. The land iguana’s yellowish scales, thick limbs gave it a prehistoric presence.

On the trail, we notice trails in the sand that looked like they had been scratched with a stick. Our guide explained that these were land iguana tracks. By following one, we managed to actually spot another land iguana.

One of the more unusual features along the trail was a massive piece of fossilized coral, now hardened into stone. It had eroded into patterns that almost looked like brain tissue, a reminder that this part of the island was once under the sea. Unlike the scattered white fragments on the beach, this coral was intact.

Nearby, we also came across a striking rock formation full of jagged ridges and hollowed-out cavities. Our guide explained that this type of texture forms when lava cools rapidly and unevenly, sometimes trapping gas bubbles that burst and leave behind porous, twisted surfaces. The result looked almost sculptural—like the island was frozen mid-eruption

Later on we stumbled upon another uncommon sight: the skeleton of a marine iguana lying out in the open. It was a stark and silent example of how unforgiving natural selection can be – even here, in a place where animals appear fearless and abundant, survival is never guaranteed.

We also saw amusing sights like a sea lion snoozing on the rocks with a Sally lightfoot crab perched on its tail.

We also spotted a Galápagos mockingbird nearby. While less flashy than some of the other wildlife, they are still an important part of the evolutionary story Darwin would later popularize. Unlike some other mockingbird species, Galápagos mockingbirds are not brood parasites; they build and tend to their own nests.

While Darwin’s finches were less prominent than we anticipated, we did see several. It was a reminder that the islands offer so much more than a single narrative of evolution. Researchers today still visit the island to do research on evolution.

Our guide even made calls to drawing more attention from the surrounding birds, and mentioned that sometimes they may even land on people’s heads. When we asked if he was the only one who could make those calls, he smirked and confidently said yes.

Shipboard Dining

One thing worth mentioning is the food onboard. Meals were generally simple but thoughtfully prepared, with most ingredients sourced locally and sustainably from the islands. This makes sense too since tourism to the islands is a big part of their economy – if the animals here die out, it’s bad for the people too.

The food was also on the healthier side compared to other cruises – the fruit juice they had, while freshly squeezed lacked the flavour that we’re used to because they don’t add sugar. Due to strict biosecurity and transport regulations, only a limited selection of products are brought in from the mainland. For example, any steak has to be pre-cooked before shipping. Despite the constraints, the culinary team consistently managed to create a wide variety of dishes with what they had, adapting creatively.

See here for the photos for Buccaneer Cove and Puerto Egas

Arriving in the Galápagos

Baltra’s arid, utilitarian appearance and developed municipal infrastructure contrasted with our mental image of a remote, untouched natural paradise. We would soon learn that while large portions of the archipelago are protected reserves, people actually live on some of the islands. Once we left the urban areas, we began to see the pristine nature of the islands.

The Galápagos has strict biosecurity protocols in place to preserve its delicate ecosystem. Visitors are not permitted to bring raw items like fresh fruit from the mainland, a necessary precaution to avoid introducing non-native species that could disrupt the islands’ fragile balance. In addition, all visitors must register with the Ecuadorian government prior to arrival and pay a park entry fee (included with the cruise), a process designed to regulate tourism and support conservation efforts. After passing through inspection, we boarded a bus that took us from the airport to a nearby pier. From there, we transferred to a zodiac – a rigid inflatable boat – which ferried us across to our cruise ship waiting offshore.

Life Onboard the Ship

Our ship, the Santa Cruz II, carried about 80 passengers. We were joining a group that had already been on board as part of a longer itinerary. Compared to our past experiences on Seabourn, this ship was a lot more modest. But as the expedition leader reminded us, the point of a Galápagos voyage is to spend as much time as possible off the ship, exploring.

There were no locks on our stateroom doors. We simply closed them behind us whenever we left. In an environment like this, where isolation and shared purpose define the experience, security concerns seem almost out of place. Each of us also received a waterproof backpack and a reusable bottle made from reclaimed ocean-bound plastic – a thoughtful gesture in line with the region’s conservation ethos.

We also began to meet our fellow passengers, many of whom came from the UK, Australia, and Canada. The demographic leaned older, with many retirees onboard, and we found ourselves among the youngest people on the ship. Everyone was friendly and curious, and conversations often revolved around past travels, conservation, and natural history. Dining onboard was communal by default – assigned seating was not the norm – so we rarely had a chance to eat on our own. This format naturally led to many interactions and opportunities to hear stories from all walks of life.

The Big 15 of the Galápagos

After spending the first few hours on the ship getting acquainted with it and going through the safety lectures, the expedition crew introduced us to the Galápagos Big 15 – a list of the most iconic and unique wildlife species in the islands. These include creatures such as the blue-footed booby, Galápagos albatross, and marine iguana. Some, like the Galápagos tortoise and flightless cormorant, exist nowhere else on Earth.

First Landing: Las Bachas, Santa Cruz Island

That same afternoon, we prepared for our first excursion: a wet landing at Las Bachas beach on Santa Cruz Island. A wet landing involves disembarking directly into the water about knee deep and wading up to the shore – a practical approach given the lack of deepwater docks in the Galápagos. The sand here was strikingly white and soft, composed largely of decomposed coral that had been broken down by wave action, fish, and natural erosion over time – a common process in tropical marine environments where coral reefs dominate the coastal ecosystem.

The terrain transitioned quickly from beach to rocky outcrops, with jagged volcanic rock underfoot. These islands were formed by a volcanic hotspot beneath the Nazca Plate, and the evidence of their fiery origins is everywhere – from the black basalt fields to the jagged cliffs that define much of the coast.

First Wildife Encounters

Our first encounter with Galápagos Big 15 came quickly: marine iguanas. Unique among lizards, these reptiles forage for algae underwater and can remain submerged for several minutes at a time. Their flattened tails help them swim, and they often warm themselves on the rocks after a dive. As they expel excess salt through specialised nasal glands, white crystalline patches form around their mouths – a distinctive trait that gives them a crusted appearance. Their dark colouring provides camouflage against the lava, though it also makes spotting them more challenging.

They are the only sea-foraging lizards in the world, and they use their strong, clawed feet to cling to rocks on the seafloor while feeding. Their sharp claws help them grip submerged volcanic surfaces as they graze on marine algae, even amid ocean swells and currents. This adaptation allows them to dive and walk along the bottom rather than swim continuously, conserving energy as they feed on algae growing on submerged rocks and reefs along the Galápagos coast.

Great frigatebirds soared above, using rising columns of warm air known as thermals to gain altitude with barely a wingbeat. The males of this species are known for their red throat pouch, which they inflate during mating displays.

As we moved along the beach and volcanic rock, we came a great blue heron standing on the black basalt. – it’s one of the largest wading birds in the archipelago. With its long neck and dagger-like bill, the heron watched the shallows for any movement. These birds hunt by remaining still for extended periods before striking quickly at fish or crustaceans in the intertidal zone.

The lava gull is endemic to the Galápagos and is considered one of the rarest gulls in the world. It has a dark head, sooty brown body, and a sharp bill, and it often scavenges or opportunistically steals food from other birds and even humans.

This small, dark heron is frequently seen stalking the shallows with deliberate steps, as shown here on an algae-covered rock. They blend in well with the coastal environment and are skilled fishers, often remaining perfectly still before darting at prey.

This brightly coloured songbird stands out starkly against the dark volcanic rock. Male yellow warblers are especially easy to spot due to their vivid plumage and are often heard before they are seen, thanks to their high-pitched, melodic calls.

Vivid Sally Lightfoot crabs clung to the stones, with their red and orange shells flashing brightly against the dark rock. In the past some local communities and visiting sailors did eat these crabs, though they were not a staple food source due to their small size and challenging preparation.

Dotted along the sand were small, round holes were their burrows. They crabs dig into the soft coral sand to create sheltered retreats where they can hide from predators and the heat of the sun. At the first sign of movement, they scuttled quickly back into these holes, disappearing with remarkable speed.

Lava lizards darted between rocks. These reptiles are sexually dimorphic, with males often displaying more vibrant colours and performing push-up displays to assert dominance or attract mates. They play an important role in the island ecosystem, helping to control insect populations and contributing to seed dispersal through occasional plant consumption. This makes them both predator and passive participant in the island’s delicate ecological balance.

Though we didn’t see any sea turtles, we came across their tracks, which nest on Las Bachas. The beach gets its name from the remnants of American military barges abandoned here after World War II. Though the rusting metal is long gone, the name “Las Bachas”—a corruption of “barges” – remains.

After our walk, we had a chance to swim. We brought our own goggles and explored just below the surface. Though we hadn’t been issued our full snorkelling gear yet, the visibility was decent. We managed to spot a curious eel weaving through the rocks and a shy pufferfish hovering near the seabed.

Night-Time Hunters Beneath the Hull

That evening, we mistakenly ended up at the German-language briefing for the next day’s excursion. I had listened to the German announcement, thinking that was where we were supposed to go and in my mind I didn’t even realize I was mixing up the langauges. We got a laugh out of the mix-up later.

We were told by other travelers that at night, we may get to see animals following the light of the boat. We took a peek and got to see some pelicans lingering near the stern, using the artificial glow to spot fish drawn to the illumination. Below them, we caught glimpses of reef sharks weaving in and out of the light, using the same opportunity to hunt more efficiently.

Unlike most cruises where the first day is reserved for settling in, we dove straight into exploration. From the very first landing, the Galápagos began unfolding its natural complexity, offering glimpses into an ecosystem both ancient and finely balanced.

See the full photo album from our first day in the Galápagos here.

When Mother Nature Changes the Itinerary

Our Antarctic expedition came to a slightly premature end as the weather took a turn for the worse. Throughout our journey, the expedition crew had repeatedly mentioned their multiple contingency plans—Plan A, B, C, D, and so on – and up until the final days, we had been fortunate enough to stick with Plan A. However, our luck eventually ran out.

The captain informed us that another cruise ship operating in the area was already heading back across the Drake Passage and experiencing exceptionally rough waters. With conditions deteriorating rapidly, the crew made the difficult decision to cancel the final day of our expedition, and head back to Ushuaia a day early.

Time for the Drake Shake

We were lucky enough to get the Drake Lake on the way there, but now it was time for the Drake Shake. We felt quite disappointed initially about missing our last day in Antarctica. However, as we began our journey back through the Drake Passage, we quickly understood the wisdom behind the crew’s decision.

Crossing the Drake Passage meant traversing approximately 700 nautical miles (~1,296 km) of open ocean. We encountered winds of 60 knots (approximately 111 km/h) and waves reaching heights of 9 metres according to windy.com. These conditions were so severe that the ship’s pool and hot tubs were closed.

The waves grew so intense that during lunch, we heard crashing sounds from the kitchen, followed by an announcement that they needed to remake all our meals. The staff didn’t even bother taking drink orders, as there was no hope of keeping anything on the tables. Walking anywhere in a straight line became impossible – it felt like spending two straight days on a perpetual pirate ship ride. Even in our sleep we tumbled around.

The crew was having trouble with seasickness too, but unlike us, they had to work. The expedition crew were scared that the waves would get worse had we stayed the extra day. Fortunately, we had taken precautions by starting seasickness medication before entering the Drake Passage.

Significance of Nautical Miles

Despite the rough waters, the crew made sure we stayed entertained. They organized various games, with each department hosting different activities. The food and beverage team challenged us to guess the price of wines and identify spices by taste. One activity was a navigational challenge.

We had to predict our future position based on speed and heading. Our original location was marked on a paper map, and we were told our speed and heading, and had to predict where we would be 5 hours from now and that value would be compared with the crew’s estimate. After I asked some clarifying questions, he explained that our heading had already accounted for wind, since it was possible the desired heading might not be the same as the actual heading.

The thing is he told me our speed in knots. How fast is a knot? Apparently it’s one nautical mile an hour. Okay how far is one nautical mile? The answer: longitude and latitude lines divide Earth into 180 degrees between each hemisphere (with 360 degrees around the circumference), with each degree divided into 60 minutes. The length of each minute along the earth’s curvature is equal to one nautical mile – by extension each degree is 60 nautical miles long. The whole cruise (and any cruise for that matter), the crew would always cite distances in nautical miles and speeds in knots, and now it makes sense.

So to predict the future position, it was a matter of knowing how many nautical miles we’d have traveled after 5 hours, convert that to lat/long and mark it on the map. The crew member thought my guess was “pretty good”, but I could have done better I was more careful with the ruler.

Winning at Trivia (A Little Too Often)

Throughout the cruise, the ship hosted trivia games. We did better than expected in our first game, and apparently another team noticed, and they recruited us into their team (the cleverly named “Kriller Instincts”). And, by sheer luck, they were really strong too, and together we won about half the games we played. With each repeat win, the more we would hear other regular trivia goers tease, “oh them again?” – only because there were prizes involved! We won hats, luggage cubes, but best of all on the last day, we won penguin plushies! Later, we traded a penguin for a polar bear.

One of the questions they asked was what the garnish was in a Gibson Martini (hint not an olive) – the answer was pearl onions. I got curious so I ordered one at the bar as part of my daily cruise routine of trying a different drink each time.

When I ordered it, it took them a while to make it. To my amusement it was because they had to get pearl onions from the galley. The onions in the drink – not good – now we know why the bar didn’t have pearl onions.

Caviar Party

Eventually some time on the second day of crossing the Drake Passage as we got nearer to Argentina, the water calmed. The ship hosted a caviar party, serving the delicacy on crackers. This was really cool – I knew I was on a luxury cruise, but I didn’t think we’d get caviar! We did get to try some during our earlier meals, but they were garnishes on some meals, as opposed to the quantity being served on each cracker.

One of the earlier trivia questions asked what material a spoon must use for serving caviar, and the answer mother of pearl (makes up the inner layer of oyster shells). It’s used because it does not affect the flavour of caviar like a metal spoon would. I asked them about the spoon, and indeed it was made of mother of pearl.

Our cruise lasted almost two weeks, and I wondered how they were able to prepare fresh food the whole time. Other cruises are able to stop at ports and reload supplies, but our ship needed to bring all of its supplies from the beginning. I couldn’t find any decisive information on this, but I suspect they do a combination of using fridges that they only open infrequently, and use vegetables with longer shelf lives.

No Refueling at Sea

Not only do they have to bring all the food with them from the beginning, they have to bring the fuel too. Earlier on the trip, the captain had explained to me that the ship still runs on fossile fuels, despite our best efforts in trying to keep the Antarctic environment as pristine as possible. I figured it wouldn’t be anything electric or solar – that tech isn’t ready for cruise ships yet – so it had to be some sort of fossil fuel.

Not only was the fuel used to cross the sea, the ship also used fuel to maintain its position while we went out on our excursions. Traditional vessels can drop anchor to stay in one spot, but this ship used GPS to monitor its position and used its propellers to counter the water current to keep the ship in place. Not having to drop an anchor prevents damage to the reefs growing on the sea floor.

An Extra Day in Ushuaia

Finally, we arrived back in Ushuaia. We had the option of spending the day in Ushuaia, but we quickly discovered that Ushuaia offered limited activities. Though, there were a few tours to nearby islands for penguin watching, but we already experienced something far richer than that.

We took a brief walk around the town, which lasted about an hour before we returned to the ship. To us, Ushuaia’s primary purpose seemed to be serving as a transit point for Antarctic expeditions. But for the Argentinian government, they maintained a military presence in the area – perhaps a way to get ready to enforce their continued claims on the Falkland Islands.

The People Who Made Our Journey Special

One of the highlights of our expedition was the diverse group of people we met. Everyone seemed eager to chat, and the shared experience of such an extraordinary adventure created an atmosphere of camaraderie, especially with our trivia team with whom we won so much.

The staff also got to know us well, and although for them it was simply their job, they consistently went beyond basic service.

One staff member, who served us in our frequent visits to the sushi bar, created a latte with “sushi” written in the foam as a special touch. These small gestures made us feel that they genuinely cared about our experience.

A Different Kind of Travel

This journey showed us that travel doesn’t always need to centre around visiting cities. There’s an incredible world of natural wonders waiting to be explored in remote locations. Talking with fellow passengers, they introduced us to ideas for future trips, such as the Northwest Passage, the Amazon Rainforest, the Galápagos Islands, Polynesian island-hopping cruises, and Serengeti National Park, among others.

People sometimes refer to Antarctica as the “madhouse at the end of the world,” and after experiencing its brutal conditions both on the water and on the continent, I understand why. What we endured clearly is only a small fraction of what the early explorers faced – like Shackleton, whose expedition was stranded in the Antarctic for over a year.

The expedition drew a fascinating mix of travellers, including an elderly man with a cane who insisted on going ashore. Despite the rocky beaches, the expedition crew assisted him each time, ensuring he could step foot on Antarctica.

The next morning after our day in Ushuaia, we boarded flights back to Buenos Aires. As our cruise came to an end, we exchanged hugs, handshakes, and contact information with our new friends. The farewells were bittersweet.

Antarctica remains a place of pristine beauty and remarkable wildlife, and I’m grateful to be fortunate enough to visit it. Even with modern expedition ships, specialized clothing, and experienced guides, the White Continent remains fundamentally untamed – a place where humans are always guests, never masters.

Palaver Point: A Frigid Visit to a Chinstrap Penguin Colony

Palaver Point was our first destination, home to a colony of chinstrap penguins.

Unlike the gentoos and Adélies we had seen on previous days, these penguins seemed to stay close to their nesting areas, seemingly reluctant to venture far in the harsh conditions.

The harsh weather conditions may have contributed to this behaviour, as the penguins sought shelter from the intensifying Antarctic elements.

Despite their limited movement, the colony was surprisingly vocal. The penguins communicated with loud, persistent calls that echoed across the few colonies present. This vocalization might have been related to the weather conditions, or serving as a way for penguin families to maintain contact during limited visibility.

Our hike around Palaver Point proved more challenging than previous excursions. The combination of extremely dry air and intense cold caused my facial skin to dry out and crack. Without a balaclava for protection, my face remained numb throughout the entire expedition on land.

The Antarctic continent is technically classified as a desert due to its minimal precipitation, and the air contains almost no moisture, particularly in these coastal areas where temperatures can fluctuate dramatically. Riding the zodiac only intensified the cold, as the wind cut through every layer, making it hard to focus on anything other than staying warm.

Harry Island: A Zodiac Tour in Whiteout Conditions

In the afternoon, we joined the scheduled zodiac tour around Harry Island, despite the worsening weather conditions. The fear of missing out on a potential wildlife sighting or spectacular ice formation motivated our decision. As we set out, the visibility quickly deteriorated. Heavy snowfall and dense fog obscured the landscape, making it difficult to see much beyond the boat. The ride itself was far from smooth – the zodiac bounced over the rough waters rather than gliding through them, creating a jarring and prolonged exposure to the elements. The splashing got us all wet, making it us all even colder. We passed by a few seals lounging on ice floes, but it was difficult to even pay them any mind.

With the snow reducing visibility, the highlights of the tour were limited to a rock tower emerging from the water and a small grotto. While these geological formations were interesting, the extreme conditions made it difficult to appreciate them fully. It didn’t help either when our zodiac driver was an older fellow who droned on about Antarctic poetry – of all things – while the wind whipped across the open water. Poetry and subzero temperatures are not a great combination. In retrospect, skipping this tour might have been the better choice, and we later learned that many others had opted to stay on the ship instead of braving the cold.

Nature Always Has the Upper Hand

The sixth day of our Antarctic journey provided a valuable lesson in respecting the continent’s unpredictable and extreme environment. They remind us that we are visitors in one of Earth’s most extreme environments, where conditions can change rapidly and where nature always maintains the upper hand.

Gentoo Penguin Colony at Neko Harbour

Our visit to Neko Harbour brought us face-to-face with a colony of gentoo penguins. Due to the colder, windier conditions, many of the adult penguins were sitting tightly on their chicks, shielding them from the elements.

The penguins cope with Antarctic temperatures through a combination of dense feathers, thick subcutaneous fat layers, and specialized circulatory systems that minimize heat loss in their extremities.

Gentoo penguins are the fastest of all penguin species, capable of reaching speeds up to 36 km/h underwater. Watching them swim was almost like seeing a laser beam darting through the icy waters.

They still look goofy when they walk on land, and this awkward movement on land contrasts sharply with their remarkable swimming abilities.

We also observed their well-worn “penguin highways” – small, carved-out paths in the snow they use to travel between their colony and the beach. These highways are formed by the repeated passage of penguins, gradually compressing the snow into defined trails.

When crossing these highways during our hike, we followed strict instructions to give the penguins right of way and to avoid stopping at any intersections that crossed their paths. We observed the gentoo penguins’ distinctive waddling gait as they travelled along these highways.

Reaching the colony required a challenging uphill walk. The increasing wind made it even more difficult, and by the time we reached the top, my face had gone numb. However, the effort was worth it, as the higher vantage point provided a sweeping view of the harbour, with icebergs floating in the bay below.

Across the water, a massive glacier towered in the distance with massive crevasses. Every glacier, ice shelf, iceberg, etc. was like a natural sculpture.

Wildlife Spotting in Paradise Bay

In the afternoon, we embarked on a zodiac cruise around Paradise Bay. The purpose of this excursion was to get closer to the inactive research bases in the area and to observe wildlife from the water.

During our cruise, we spotted a small vessel in the distance. Our guide informed us that it was likely a private expedition and noted that such a small boat would have faced a much more challenging journey across the Drake Passage than our ship. While our crossing of the Drake Passage took approximately two days, a vessel of that size might require 8 to 10 days to navigate the same waters, not to mention being thrown around a lot harder in the waves.

The wildlife sightings began with more gentoo penguins resting on ice floes. It’s remarkable to see these penguins in these places, so far from their colonies. They have adapted to life in Antarctica through specialized features including dense waterproof feathers and the ability to drink salt water. Their bodies contain special glands that filter excess salt, which they expel through their nasal passages.

Our cruise transformed into an impromptu whale-watching expedition when we encountered several humpback whales swimming nearby.

We paused to observe them, and soon discovered that we were surrounded. As we focused on one pod of whales, another would surface elsewhere, reminiscent of a game of whac-a-mole. The whales appeared curious about our presence, with one even swimming directly underneath our zodiac, briefly making me worry it might tip us over. Fortunately, these gentle giants seemed aware of our presence and moved carefully around us.

While we saw many whales, none of them breached as dramatically as the whalewatching tour brochures often depict. Our guide explained that breaching is not as common as people expect, making it a rare sight even on dedicated whale-watching excursions (very misleading in those whalewatching brochures). In 20 to 30 minutes, we saw more whales than in the entire expedition combined.

Seals were also scattered across the icebergs, resting and occasionally glancing at our boat.

Each iceberg presented a different shape, texture, and blue hue, appearing as naturally sculpted art installations drifting across the bay. The distinctive blue colour results from the ice’s unique crystalline structure which absorbs red light while reflecting blue wavelengths. Some icebergs contain ice that fell as snow thousands of years ago, preserving ancient atmospheric conditions within their frozen layers.

We spent so much time watching the whales, and the other wildlife that we ran out of time and didn’t even make it to go see the abandoned research bases. This was totally okay, seeing the whales was better than doing a drive-by of the abandoned research base.

Zodiac Tour Through Ice and Water

Our excursion took place entirely by zodiac, allowing us to navigate the icy waters and get a closer look at the Antarctic terrain. The weather was exceptionally clear, offering remarkable visibility.

As we floated through the frigid waters, the landscape around us displayed a fascinating variety – flat, smooth snowbanks, jagged cliffs, towering icebergs, and sprawling glaciers.

One of the more intriguing phenomena we observed was “scalloping” on icebergs. This process forms small, golf ball-like divots on the surface of the ice, created by the uneven melting. I tried looking into the science, but it’s actually quite technical, requiring an understanding of fluid mechanics.

Some icebergs even featured long icicles, a testament to the dynamic and ever-changing nature of Antarctica’s frozen landscape.

In some places, the water was remarkably still and reflective, creating mirror-like surfaces that doubled the visual impact of the surrounding landscape.

Humpback Whale Encounter

As we ventured further, we spotted several humpback whales surfacing in the distance. Each whale’s fin pattern is as unique as a human fingerprint. A website, HappyWhale, allows citizen scientists to upload images of whale fins, contributing to global tracking efforts and expanding our understanding of whale migration patterns.

We watched as they gracefully moved through the water, occasionally expelling misty bursts from their blowholes.

Lounging Crabeater Seals

Seals were another common sight throughout the day. We encountered a few crabeater seals resting on ice floes. Despite their misleading name, crabeater seals primarily feed on krill, using their specialized teeth to filter these small crustaceans from the water.

Up close, these seals are surprisingly cute with their expressive faces that appear to be smiling when relaxed. Their primarily white coats with scattered dark speckles help them blend into the snowy environment. When resting on ice, they often adopt a contented pose with eyes half-closed and flippers positioned as if waving to passing boats.

One of the seals rolled over lazily, seemingly indifferent to our presence. The narrator pointed out that it was a female, identifying it by its ventral slit.

It was a simple but fascinating moment – one of those times when I’m reminded how cool it is to watch animals just doing their thing in the wild.

Gentoo Penguin Spotted

We also saw our first gentoo penguin, perched alone on an iceberg.

The moment was made slightly awkward when one of the guests on our zodiac made an odd catcalling noise toward the penguin only to be swiftly shut down by our zodiac driver.

Sailing Onward

After returning to the ship and setting sail for our next destination, we continued to spot small icebergs with seals lounging on them. One particularly interesting sight was a seal resting on an ice floe marked with what appeared to be either guano or blood stains – perhaps evidence of a recent penguin meal.

The crew has yet again planned another successful excursion allowing us to again see another dimension of Antarctica we did not see before.