Isla de la Plata: A world in miniature
Lovingly referred to by locals as the “little Galápagos”, Ecuador’s ‘Silver Island’ bears riches in more than just name.
The boat danced along slowly to the rhythm of the Pacific waves as the cliffs came into view. Titanic humpbacks breached and sprayed their saltwater clouds as if in celebration of this new sight. They present for the herd of rapidly firing cameras dangling over the sides of the boat. The cliffs truly did exude a dull silver colour as we had been told, but this was not precious metals nor sought-after crystalline rocks, it was guano. Although some speculate the island is home to Sir Francis Drake’s treasure trove, locals know the island to be named after nothing more than shining cliffs of seabird droppings. Despite the uncharacteristic splendour of it all, however, every pair of eyes remained fixed on the pair of green turtles that had joined the boat as we rounded the cove and the cliffs drop suddenly to deep yellow, tourist-laden sands.
The curious pair of green turtles. © Matthew Walsh / Finding Earth
The island was a surprise. Not the stereotypical heavenly tropical island, you won’t find any palm trees or white sand, in fact, most vegetation would struggle to reach higher than a human head. Dried by a constant, and sometimes all too strong, sea breeze, Isla de la Plata presents itself as somewhat of an understatement on the ecological front, especially with the bold reputation of its rainforest-clad parent country, Ecuador. This understated demeanour of the island was clearly not recognised by the Ecuadorian government.
Ecuador was, relatively speaking, late to the party in terms of protected areas, with Machililla Nation Park, which has jurisdiction over the island, being one of the country’s first national parks founded as recently as 1979. Seemingly to make up for this lost time, however, protections were strict.
“No leaving the trails”, my up-to-this-moment pleasant guide said, stern faced, “and no touching the plants either, por favor”.
Obliging, I was subject to some of the most spectacular and intimate wildlife encounters I’m sure can be found anywhere in the world.
One of Isla de la Plata’s proud residents, the blue-footed booby. © Matthew Walsh / Finding Earth
Several tourist trails wound from a small conservation station towards the heart of the island and, just steps beyond the beach, it leapt to life. What had previously seemed dry and lifeless was now notably home to elusive snakes and lizards. The trails sliced between the desertic brush to the far side of the island, here, the gently undulating island plummeted seaward, seemingly as attracted to the clear Pacific waters as tourists were. Piratical frigate birds patrolled the cliff edge where nesting tropic birds sheltered from the winds, but arguably the island’s most famed inhabitants stood firm by their open ground nests; blue-footed boobies. So densely packed was the island with these peculiar seabirds that I would rarely walk fifty feet before running into another amorous pair.
The far, rugged coastline of Isla de la Plata. © Matthew Walsh / Finding Earth
Isla de la Plata truly shines as testament to the tangible successes of conservation, with booming wildlife populations allowing for such close encounters. The true majesty of this little Pacific rock, however, is in its simplicity as a little Pacific rock. A little rock that shows, without question, that even unassuming and less popular destinations can house wonders of their own.
