Floreana
The anchorage in Puerto Velazco Ibarra, Floreana reveals the island to be simultaneously green and dry. A strange landscape of hummocky hills formed by long extinct volcanoes, carpeted with green shrubland but peppered by dry brush. The town itself is very small, with a colourful ‘Floreana’ sign familiar to most tourist hotspots, a post barrel, and a restaurant that shows football and the movie ‘Eden’ (based on true events of the eccentric Germans we will soon become very familiar with).
Floreana Island, a seemingly inhospitable place with just one freshwater source is reputed for mysterious goings-on. With drinkable water scarce in the archipelago, it was the choice of the island’s early colonists. First came Patrick Watkins, or ‘Irish Pat’ in 1805.
Records fail to specify whether he had requested to remain on the island or was marooned against his wishes, but he lived near black beach. The beach was visible from our anchorage, basaltic sands with a short but strong surf, with the Wittmer family museum and hotel at the back. Irish Pat reportedly spent his days drinking rum and became somewhat of a local legend amongst the tail end of the whaling community. Embarking for Guayaquil aboard the Black Prince in 1809, his lore was further developed as he was the surviving crew.
We arrived to the pier at 9.00 and passed the now familiar lounging sea lions to the enter the town of Puerto Velazco Ibarra. We are greeted by a friendly guide and the fattest marine iguana we have seen yet. Boarding trucks that have wifi but not seatbelts, we make our way inland.
There is one road leading into the heart of the island, and it seems that it is either incredibly well maintained or used only very rarely. Frigatebirds circle high above us and the vegetation thickens but doesn’t grow in height. We pass a tractor followed by a dog, the drivers shouting greetings to one another, as we continue to move inland.
On arrival, we are greeted by yellow warblers, citrine and singing, males with rusty caps and chest streaks. At the island’s only freshwater source, we stop to hear about its history. More colonisation attempts ended in failure before, in 1929, the infamous toothless vegetarian dentist, Dr Friedrich Ritter, arrived with a small entourage of eccentrics. Finding only the remanent livestock of a failed military settlement. There is great potential for speculation upon the events that followed, but the result was that an unpopular Baroness disappeared alongside one of her partners, Ritter died of food poisoning, and another inhabitant was discovered mummified on Marchena Island. We come to a mysterious carving of a head, reminiscent of Rapa Nui’s Maui statues, crowned with epiphytic plants. There are several theories as to the origin of this statue, but the most convincing is that the Wittmers built it as a memorial to the family dog.
On the way back, we stop at a small farm, where the family proudly show off their plantations of watermelon, papaya, beans, bananas and more. We meet the friendly cow, I feed her an orange and she licks my hand. After a lunch at the restaurant by the pier, we look through postcards destined to be delivered by whoever next travels through and home to their intended destination. This is a fun tradition initiated by the whalers, and we are happy to take some and leave some to keep the magic alive.
