JUNE 3, 2001
It’s Sunday afternoon, and Darwin Avenue is sleepy, almost silent. Just yesterday the roadway was clogged curb to curb with men, women, and children laughing and shouting, waving Ecuadorian national flags. Some were dancing and leaping; others were piled atop the hoods of slow-moving cars and trucks. The drivers gleefully blasted their horns in rhythm to the passengers’ chants of “Ecuador! Ecuador! Ecuador!” as an impromptu, half-mile-long parade snaked its way along the waterfront and up through the town.
Ecuador had just beaten Peru two to one in a World Cup qualifying match that meant much more to both nations than mere soccer. National pride, at a time when both countries have precious little to be proud of, was at stake here, the bragging rights between anciently combative neighbors. Only six years ago, these two countries were at war.
Just three weeks before the match, the coach of Ecuador’s national team had been beaten and shot in a confrontation with four men in the lobby of Guayaquil’s Hilton Colon Hotel. One of the attackers, Joseló Rodriguez, coaches Abdala Bucaram’s overweight nineteen-year-old son, Dalo, in an Ecuadorian under-twenty-year-old junior soccer league. When selections were made earlier this year for the national team that would represent Ecuador in the under-twenty World Cup tournament in Argentina in July, Dalo was not chosen.
Apparently, it was time for the coach, Hernan Gomez, of the adult team to suffer for this slight. The coach, affectionately nicknamed “Bolillo” (“Little Ball”) by Ecuador’s rabid fans, was pistol-whipped in the face and shot in his right thigh after emerging from a national soccer federation meeting in the Hilton. El Loco’s sister, Elsa, the former mayor of Guayaquil, who is now back home in Ecuador as a member of congress, had stood up at the soccer meeting and accused Hernan Gomez of being a cocaine addict. When the gathering adjourned, Gomez was assaulted in the lobby by Rodriguez and his friends.
Rodriguez was promptly arrested and admitted to “verbally accosting” the coach, but said he knew nothing of the shooting. A manhunt was launched for the actual gunman, one of Rodriguez’s bodyguards. Meanwhile, the elder Bucaram, speaking to the press at his hotel asylum in Panama, denied any involvement. “This is something we all regret and condemn,” said El Loco. “However, it’s soccer, and people get excited and take revenge.”
After the bullet was removed from Gomez’s thigh and his shattered nose was reconstructed by plastic surgeons, the coach considered quitting and leaving the country. More than 10,000 fans, their faces painted red, blue, and yellow—Ecuador’s national colors—marched through downtown Quito to protest the assault and persuade Gomez to stay. He did, and now in this first weekend in June, he was on the sidelines for the epochal victory over Peru.
Up at the Hotel Galápagos, Jack Nelson’s office manager, Carlos Acosta, can hardly speak, his throat is so sore from screaming at the TV during the game. The lobby is empty at the moment, though dinnertime is approaching and soon the tables will fill. A group of Americans—led by Daniel Fitter, in fact—checked in this morning and will be staying the night.
Jack’s got a few minutes to relax, to read through the e-mails he just downloaded from his office computer. There’s a message from Christy, who is in New York for a quick layover before flying on to Portugal, then England. If her trip—this year’s annual art excursion—had gone as planned, Christy would already be in Lisbon. But everything changed when Gayle Davis checked into a hospital in Quito last month. Only her closest friends knew it, but Gayle had been battling cancer for the past decade. By the time she flew to Quito for treatment in May, most of those friends knew she would most likely not be flying back. Christy put her vacation on hold so she could stay in Quito, where she remained for two weeks until this past Thursday, when Gayle drew her last breath. It hit Christy hard, another dear friend dying this way, just like Mary Fitter.
Jack’s almost done leafing through his other messages when the lobby’s front screen door opens and in steps Sean O’Hearn with a young woman. She is a college student from America named Jennifer Jacquet, who’s volunteering for the summer with Sea Shepherd. The Sirenian is out on patrol at the moment, and O’Hearn is livid that he’s not on it. The ship lifted anchor two nights ago, with last-minute orders from none other than Admiral Vega himself prohibiting O’Hearn from coming aboard. O’Hearn has been a thorn in Vega’s side ever since early March, when the Sirenian was finally cleared to become the first foreign-flagged vessel to patrol the Galápagos Marine Reserve. O’Hearn’s account of that initial patrol, sent by e-mail to Sea Shepherd’s 25,000 members all over the world, as well as to media and government officials in Ecuador and the United States, gives a good idea why Admiral Vega is outraged:
Thursday, March 8, 2001
I arrived at Baltra Airport from Lima after having gone to the Ecuadorian Embassy in Peru for my diplomatic paperwork required to remain in Galápagos over an extended period of time. The Captain of the Sirenian was there waiting to bring me to the ship. We had received permission from DIGMER to navigate the Marine Reserve of Galápagos after a two-month waiting period that involved a major bureaucracy-go-round. We set sail within hours and were on our way to Wolf Island in the northern regions of the Marine Reserve, where there had been reports of illegal activity. I stood on the bow of the Sirenian and thought, “This is what being a Sea Shepherd volunteer is all about.”
It did not take long. We were approximately 22 miles Northwest of Wolf, Lat 01° 13' 011" N Long 091° 18' 618" W, chasing a potential target on the radar about 15 miles from our current position. It was approaching 10:30 P.M. when we arrived to find out it was a dense low cloud. The crew’s anticipation quickly subsided and I walked out onto the bridge wing for a quick breather. We turned port side when I noticed a light in the distance in a 10 o’clock position to our bow. I ran back into the bridge and saw the target appear on the radar screen. I advised the wheelman of the potential target and we began to pursue.
I could see the port/starboard lights and knew the ship was facing us. We were also gaining on her so I knew that she was either stopped or heading toward us. We approached to within a mile when I saw only a starboard light and knew she was changing course and fleeing. “We got her now,” I said, and instructed to increase speed.
We were now in full pursuit. It was a tuna fishing boat. There are many reports that tuna boats are involved in illegal shark finning. This was no local boat, either. We turned our sirens on and began approaching her from the starboard side. We got within loudspeaker distance, sirens blazing, and began shouting in Spanish over the PA system to stop engines. The naval officer was on the radio instructing the vessel that it was within the Marine Reserve of Galápagos and that he must stop engines for boarding.
The vessel was the San Mateo out of Manta, Ecuador. It was caught traversing the Marine Reserve illegally. Fishing boats from Manta are notorious for illegal fishing within the Marine Reserve. According to the Special Law of Galápagos, all vessels entering the Marine Reserve must request permission to do so. That gave the National Park the authority to board, inspect, escort to nearest port, and, if necessary, fine. The San Mateo stopped all engines. We donned our bulletproof jackets and proceeded to board the vessel.
We walked onto the bridge and the naval officer proceeded to check the vessel’s papers. After I spoke with several crew members on the bridge and inspected the paperwork, I realized that it was a Spanish-owned ship and it was clear that the Spanish were financing the operation. There were also Spanish representatives on board. It was an Ecuadorian-registered vessel, but all the catch was going to Spain.
The Park rangers then proceeded to check the fishing log for any out-of-the-ordinary positions. Of course, there were no entries of fishing activity within the Reserve. We asked the captain if he was aware that he was within the Galápagos Marine Reserve. He claimed ignorance and showed us a nautical map that had a red zone marking the Marine Reserve but conveniently had a 30-mile radius (as opposed to the actual 40-mile zone) and also did not include the northern islands of Wolf and Darwin.
We proceeded to inspect the catch but the naval officer would not allow us to check all cargo and just wanted to spot-check the cargo. We disagreed and got them to check some additional cargo holds. Since the vessel was found within the Marine Reserve, under law we could escort the ship back to the nearest port for full inspection and possible fines and sanctions. We advised the captain and proceeded to return to the Sirenian. What I did not understand is that no one stayed on board the San Mateo. I was told that the naval officer was always to remain on board. As I watched the San Mateo being escorted by the Sirenian with due course to the nearest port, I thought, “If I were them, I would get rid of any illegal catch on board now since no one is there to control the situation.”
I went to my bunk for a rest, but was shortly awakened abruptly and advised that we had a serious problem. It seemed the captain of the San Mateo had had a change of heart and had decided that we had no authority to escort him to port and that he was going to change course for Manta, Ecuador.
Our naval officer advised him that he would be in violation of the Special Law of Galápagos and the naval authority, and that we would be forced to intercept. We followed closely behind as the San Mateo began to pick up speed. The Sirenian was (a lot) faster then the San Mateo and the captain soon found that out. He told us that he had called the owner’s lawyer and the lawyer had advised him that they had not broken any law and that they should proceed to Manta. The vessel changed course, defying our authority, and we pursued.
The naval officer called in to the naval port of Seymour explaining the situation and they advised him to stop the vessel at all costs and to shoot if necessary. They were even willing to send in their battleship from San Cristobal’s naval base to assist us.
The ship suddenly began to slow down and the captain informed us that they had engine problems and that they were shutting down their engines. We advised the captain that we were going to board the vessel and we sent a videographer, Park ranger and the naval officer.
Apparently the captain had been calling his “contacts” and it looked as though he was stalling for time. The naval officer informed me that he had been given a direct order by Admiral Vega, high admiral of the Ecuadorian Merchant Marines, to leave the vessel immediately and allow it to go. The naval officer later told me that he was speaking to the lawyer, when the lawyer handed the phone over to the admiral, and that he received the order then.
This is a blatant example of corruption within DIGMER and the Ecuadorian Navy. The National Park, knowing they had the international support of Sea Shepherd, stood their ground and gave the order to remain on board and to not allow the vessel to leave the Marine Reserve. To no avail. The naval officer left the San Mateo with their dinghy and we had no choice but to pick him up.
We informed the National Park and the director denounced the blatant abuse of power and immediately got on the phone with the minister of the environment. I was very close to giving the order of not allowing the naval officer to get back on board. Orders or no orders, he should never have left the Park rangers alone on that vessel. The captain of the San Mateo immediately threw the rangers off the bridge and locked them out. Some were threatened verbally and the San Mateo informed us that they were under way en route to Manta. They showed no respect for the authority of the National Park—not surprising due to the blatant support and backing they had from the Ecuadorian naval authorities. The National Park cannot enforce the regulations as they are authorized to do so in the Special Law of the Galápagos if they also have to fight abuse within the Ecuadorian Naval Command.
I had a tough decision to make: Whether to leave the rangers on board the San Mateo or take them off. My anger told me to leave them on board as they were willing to remain on board. My fear was that they informed me that their radio battery was running low and a loss of communication would be too risky for their lives. I instructed the captain to tell the captain of San Mateo to stop so we could disembark our rangers. We escorted the San Mateo to the 40-mile outer limits of the Marine Reserve, hoping we would hear some change from the minister of the environment. We wasted so much time and fuel to then be forced to escort them out of the Marine Reserve untouched, thanks to the abuse of power by the Ecuadorian Naval Command.
I am angry and I will take out my anger by continuing these patrols and immediately informing Sea Shepherd International HQ of the situation, and I know, with the support of Sea Shepherd members, we will act and we will tell the world—and the world will tell Ecuador—that this type of abuse of power will not be tolerated, especially not in Galápagos.
The National Park officials stood their ground despite the fact that they were facing a formidable power, the Ecuadorian Naval Command, including Admiral Vega, high admiral of DIGMER. Sea Shepherd’s presence in Galápagos is being felt, and we will not stand down, either. It has been a good day for us as we have uncovered what has always been the biggest obstacle to the conservation of this precious archipelago. That obstacle comes from the blatant abuse of power that DIGMER has shown time and again since Sea Shepherd first arrived. It started when we were forced to wait over two months, through dodgy bureaucracy, for a piece of paper that would allow the National Park to use the Sirenian to patrol the Marine Reserve of Galápagos.
Now, through national and international pressure, we finally received the authority to patrol and in one of our first confrontations the blatant abuse of power is shown once again. This type of abuse, some call it corruption, should not be tolerated by the people of Ecuador or the international community. If the international community has declared the Galápagos Islands a Natural World Heritage Site, then it must be willing to support them.
The Sirenian seized four more ships in the subsequent three months—one carrying more than a thousand fresh shark fins—and each of them, like the San Mateo, was released upon orders from Admiral Vega. Then, just this past week, O’Hearn was barred from boarding his own vessel. The port captain informed him on Friday, just before the Sirenian left, that he is not properly certified to sail with it. He needs to take some kind of marine safety course, he was told. O’Hearn had no doubt Vega was behind this decision and rushed to Eliecer Cruz’s office that afternoon to put a call through to the admiral.
Cruz, unfortunately, was not there. He won’t be for a while. He left last month to travel to Spain, where he is said to be completing the course work necessary to receive his master’s degree in park management. Friends explain that it’s a political necessity, so that Cruz can protect himself from political enemies who might use his lack of academic credentials to replace him with a more “qualified” director. But rumors are flying around town, just as they did when Cruz last disappeared from the islands in the wake of Judge Avellan’s arrest warrant during the Magdalena affair. People are whispering that Eliecer Cruz is gone for good, that he’s had enough of this mess.
Whatever the case, O’Hearn wishes Cruz were still here. When the acting park director, one of Cruz’s assistants, put that call through to Vega, O’Hearn could hear the admiral shouting through the phone that O’Hearn should be kicked out of the country. O’Hearn had, in the Admiral’s words, “tainted an honorable institution.” Vega’s rant didn’t bother O’Hearn nearly as much as the sheepishness of Cruz’s assistant, who all but groveled at his end of the line instead of holding his ground as Cruz would have done.
Only time will tell whether Cruz is plotting a triumphant return, as he has in the past, or if he is indeed finally quitting. At the moment, the Guadalupe River is bobbing harmlessly in the bay rather than hunting down poachers. It was flunked just this past week by the same naval inspectors who have been hounding the Sirenian. Sitting beside it is a small barge—a steel-plated houseboat—painted a pale Park Service green, with a Park Service emblem displayed on its cabin. The barge is set to be dispatched to the islands’ northernmost waters, around Wolf and Darwin, where much illegal fishing has been taking place lately. It will be a floating Park Service satellite base, monitoring the area and providing supplies and support to patrol boats in the region.
Or at least that’s the idea. However, right now the barge is as dead in the water as the Guadalupe River. O’Hearn is just sick at the sight of it all. Clutched in his hand is a sheaf of messages, including an e-mail received just last night from Paul Watson in response to O’Hearn’s complaint that he’s been grounded. O’Hearn is fed up, ready to call in the Sea Shepherd’s big gun, the Ocean Warrior, and begin what the group diplomatically calls “direct action,” a polite term for ramming. Watson, according to his response, seems willing:
Dear Sean,
This really is unacceptable. Our contract states that you must be a part of the patrols. Unless you go out on these patrols, we will have to revoke our agreement. I would not say anything at this moment, but the Ocean Warrior will be back in the Galápagos in August. If this situation is not resolved, we will take back the Sirenian.
O’Hearn is excited, ready for action, as is Jennifer, his student assistant, who can’t resist leaping into the conversation. “If things keep going like this,” she says, tossing her tumbling red hair away from her slim freckled face, “then we’ll do what we do best, ram ships.”
Ram ships. Jack looks across the low coffee table at this young girl, in all her outrage, speaking these words with the eagerness of a kid climbing onto a bumper-car ride. She means well, as does O’Hearn. But this fury of theirs, it’s informed by—what?—six months or so of frustration? Six months of facing the surreal swirl of bullshit the people who live here have had to deal with for decades? It could easily feel insulting, this presumption on the part of these…these children…that they know what needs to be done to save the Galápagos, and that they are the ones to do it.
Jack takes none of this personally, unlike O’Hearn, who has reduced the Sea Shepherd’s conflict to a square-off between himself and this admiral. Perspective is what is called for right now. This is what Jack wants to tell these kids. Perspective and patience. He measures his words thoughtfully, just as he wishes they’d measure theirs. “It’s important to allow people in a situation like this to save face,” Jack says.
O’Hearn sits back, draws a deep breath, looks first at Jack, then at the harbor, then back at Jack. Jennifer leans forward, rubbing her knees with her hands.
It’s not wise in this culture to draw lines in the sand. This is what Jack is saying. There are ways to get things done here, but those ways take time and vision.
But these kids don’t hear him. Jack can see that. They’re all about drawing lines in the sand. That’s what the Sea Shepherd is about. And Jack has to wonder if their way might not be right. How long has he lived on these islands, learning the rules of this place, adjusting, adapting, playing its games the best way he knows how? He’s watched others play them as well, in their own ways: the Station, the Park Service, tour operators, guides, the government, the locals, the outsiders, the old-timers and the newcomers. Each of them sees the Galápagos through their own eyes, their own filters, pushing to make it the place that they want it to be, that they need it to be. People call these islands a jewel, and they have no idea how right they are. Like a jewel, the Galápagos has many facets, each reflecting a different brilliance, depending on the angle with which it’s held to the light.
This is the way it always has been. The Norwegians who came in the twenties. The whalers who came long before them. The warships with sails and the gunboats with armor. The baroness, the Wittmers, the Americans in World War II serving their country, the Americans after them fleeing from theirs. The men who smelled fortunes far back in the past, and the men who smell fortunes today: the tour operators and fisheries.
There have always been those who have come to these islands for freedom or safety or simply a chance to make a life for themselves. There have always been those who have come simply to behold the spectacle of these shores and this sea. And there have always been those who are drawn here to study, to unlock the islands’ mysteries, to probe the pulses of life that exist here so that the life of this planet, and our own lives upon it, can be more deeply understood.
The Galápagos belongs—it has always belonged—to each person who visits it, each in his own way. This is as true today as it was five hundred years ago, when the Bishop first landed here. Yes, the Sea Shepherd has arrived, and Jack’s right about this: the ante’s been raised. But the ante’s been rising since man first stepped ashore on these islands. The stakes have simply become steeper as each year has led to the next, the winnings larger, the losses more ruinous.
When Gayle died last week, Godfrey wrote a remembrance. It was sent out to friends, including Jack, who received a copy by e-mail just this morning.
Gayle lived a simple, dedicated, and utterly loyal life. Her energy was directed toward the conservation of the Enchanted Islands with a consistency that is hard to equal. She truly loved the animals and plants, and even when she left the islands for the last time, she wanted to be sure that the little scalesia plant in the garden would be watered and cared for, even before her own health.
She was not a great swimmer but cared as much for the sharks and the fish as the finches and her beloved “iggies.” She had a deep awareness for the well-being of all animals and had a special rapport with those she tended. These included blue-footed boobies, shearwaters, and the wonderful Fred, a swallow-tailed gull.
And who can forget Whish? Gayle spent hours and hours in the sun and rain gathering Whish berries and caterpillars from the saltbushes. Whish changed from a bedraggled infant to a sleek, sharp-eyed, tool-using finch. She was thrilled that this bird sought the shelter of her body when the rain beat down, clutching her fingers and gently snoozing till the storm had passed. She would be aghast and furious at the news that another long-liner from Costa Rica had been released with 1,000 shark fins aboard.
Many people have already pointed out her untiring work in the library and the unstinted help offered to all who approached her for assistance. But Gayle was much more than this, and I think we should use the example of her life to promote a better future of the Galápagos.
A few weeks before her death, I drove her to the sinkholes, known as Las Gemelos, for this was one of the places that we loved most on Santa Cruz. The green canopy of scalesia trees with their nodding daisy flowers and the staccato call of the carpenter finches was a delight to her senses. At her feet doves wandered, and in the nearby trees finches and a vermillion flycatcher busied themselves, far from the rattle and concussive racket of the town, which she hated. She lay down and dozed, surrounded by this tiny heaven on earth.
Gayle truly loved Galápagos. She knew its beauty and sorrow, the conservation efforts to save it and the dark forces of destruction that threaten to destroy it. If there is one thing that we can do in her memory and to calm her agitated dreams, it is to redouble the conservation efforts to preserve the one place on earth to which she gave her life and untiring energy.
I do not throw this out as a platitude. She showed that we can live in a gentle harmony with nature through a deep appreciation of what nature really is—that it will only survive if we love it as part of our lives, both in a physical and spiritual sense, that greed and aggression are the enemies of peace and fulfillment.
Godfrey Merlen
Guayaquil
June 1, 2001
It’s late. The sun has moved low, across the harbor, above the barranco. Forrest is at the lobby door in his wheelchair. His small corner table is set for one. The other tables are set as well for the guests who will be arriving soon, Daniel Fitter’s tour group.
Jack hasn’t got time right now to read Godfrey’s message. There are so many things to do. Later this evening he’ll sit down with a scotch, put on some music, and take a look at those words. Then he’ll prepare for a meeting tomorrow with the town’s chamber of commerce to iron out a new set of regulations for Galápagos tourism, something the Chamber’s been haggling over for ten years now: workable limits on diving and sportfishing and boat tours. After a decade of discussion, with Jack often leading the way, the new rules—aimed as much at protecting the islands as preserving the tour industry’s profits—are just about ready to be sent to the mainland, to the Department of Environment, then on to the president’s desk for his signature.
At least that’s how Jack hopes it will go. If the regulations get past the cadre of fishing-industry attorneys who stand in their way. If the Department of Environment, in all of its industry-influenced fractiousness, approves them. If the president, whoever he might be once the rules reach his desk, agrees to sign them into law.
Jack admits it’s a lot to hope for. But then what was it Godfrey said on that soft afternoon early last year, as he sat on the Ratty anchored in Bud’s Bay? Love, hope, and example. These, Godfrey said, are the three things man lives by. And the greatest of these, he said, must be hope.
Darwin himself would agree. The Origin of Species concludes with a passage that, in the face of eternal destruction, is nothing if not optimistic:
Thus, from the war of nature, from famine and death, the most exalted object which we are capable of conceiving, namely, the production of the higher animals, directly follows. There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed into a few forms or into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being, evolved.
Grandeur and beauty and wonder. This, in the end, is what all who continue to care for these islands believe, that the grandeur and beauty and wonder of the Galápagos will prevail.
And that the goodness of man will allow it.