John and I were talking about the doorway to the Internet. So he drew it for me.

Every morning on the boat, Suzy and I would wake at 6.30am to stumble around getting dressed in our cabin before the bell rang for breakfast at 7am. Quite often I would be awake a few moments before the alarm on my mobile started beeping on the mattress beside me. On our last morning, I woke earlier than usual and was aware of people walking about outside the cabin.

Suddenly an alarm on the boat went off, followed by the bell ringing. Huh? What the? But it’s not even … Douglas came past and called “Dolphins!” through the crack in our doorway. We piled blearily out of the cabin and stood outside in our jammies. A couple of dolphins were keeping us company in the water and I could see their fins here and there, close to the boat. Suzy also saw one right below us in the water.

After getting dressed and having our breakfast, we sailed around Daphne Island, which is shut to the public. Though the sides of the island are so steep, I’m not entirely sure how you’d get onto it even if it were open! We were on the lookout for red-footed boobies, but unfortunately none made an appearance. Herons, blue-footed boobies and all the usual suspects were in evidence, though.

The circuit of the island complete, Suzy and I went to finish packing in our cabin. Much more of an ordeal than usual, trying to pack everything back into our rucksacks on our bunks, while also staggering about as the boat bounced over the waves. Virgy also paid us a visit to steal more of my aftersun lotion and to try and stop us packing.

The whole group convened on deck for photos and we soon discovered that Virgy shouldn’t give up his day job as chef to become a photographer. I’d handed him my camera unintentionally zoomed in and so when I came to check the result, it was a good photo of just a small number of us. After the whole stack of our cameras, including Suzy’s, had been gone through, I zoomed back out for him and the group gathered again in a slightly different configuration, with Antonio plonking himself down in the middle of the front row and linking arms with me and Suzy.

Before long we had reached Baltra and it was time to leave. There was much hugging and kissing all round, with Douglas indicating firmly in Spanish that Sarita shouldn’t go, she should stay on the boat. I had to disappoint him and boarded the panga one last time. Off we sailed, waving to the crew left on board, as Douglas called from the deck, “Ciao, Sarita! Ciao, Sarita!”

Enriqué escorted us to Baltra airport, where we checked in and sat and waited in the big beach hut that was the terminal. I saw Enriqué welcoming his next group and sat on my bench feeling very smug, tanned, accustomed to the heat and able to spot a frigate bird at 50 paces.

I did a bit more shopping at the kiosks outside the terminal and exchanged smiles with the woman from whom I’d bought postcards a week ago. I bought some earrings from a very jolly, helpful man, who stamped my passport with a Galapagos stamp to prove I’d been there too, not just to Ecuador!

After the sitting, shopping and sitting once more, Enriqué came to say goodbye to us all - although Suzy and I were clearly the favourites, being the only ones to receive kisses. It seems to pay to be young women on a trip like this ;-)

Our plane was a smart thing and I had a window seat, which meant I was able to get a few shots as we left the island and then as we flew over Ecuador. The flight didn’t land at Guayaquil this time, so the journey time was a bit shorter. We were given meat and potato slices for lunch, which was a little blah, but the bread roll with butter, fairy cake and little white chocolate bar with crispy bits were wonderful, along with a cup of Coke. I guess I’d missed sugar.

We were soon back to Quito, where Sofia took us all back to our hotel and we were then free to do our own thing. In my diary it says that Suzy and I “threw our crap across our beds and fannied about a bit before I had a shower”. I think that about covers it. Except for the moment when Suzy discovered that lying on her bed with her rucksack between her and the mirror, she could make it look in her reflection as though she was inside her rucksack.

After I was out of the shower Suzy announced that she was hungry, bringing my attention to my own rumbling stomach. We headed out to find the Italian restaurant we had picked out on our map. It took some finding … and was shut. Meanwhile my leg had fired up it’s “horrible pain for no reason” trick, so I wasn’t up for too much aimless wandering to find another feeding hole.

We soon found a nice quiet little place called “Il Pizzaiolo”. An Indian guy with a metal bar through his earlobe served us, while a film with Keanu Reeves and Charlize Theron was showing on the TV on the counter. The sound was turned down, so all the fighting, making up and dogs was a bit confusing. (Seems to have been “Sweet November”)

We ordered a starter to keep us going while we waited for our canneloni. It was bruschetta topped with tomato and herbs and was so yummy that we decided that we would come back the next night. Suzy asked Mr Indian to mark the restaurant on our map so we could avoid wandering the streets with rumbling stomachs again.

After yummy canneloni and lines glasses of coke, we headed off to find an internet café. Just as we were stepping over its threshold, the Welsh members of our tour group went past in a taxi, with Glenys hanging out of the window, shouting at us.

We checked our mail and made sure the world was still out there beyond Quito and then decided that a taxi back to the hotel wouldn’t be a bad idea. Turns out, it was.

It wasn’t difficult to hail a cab, as white tourists stand out a mile on the streets of Quito and you can’t walk down the street without hearing taxis honking at you, as if to say, “Are you lost? Let me take you somewhere!” It was perhaps a sign that the taxi we hailed was not one that had honked at us in such a fashion. In any case, the vehicle stopped and we climbed into the back seat, my legs and I relieved to be sitting once more. Suzy gave the driver the name of our hotel. He’d never heard of it. I felt this did not bode well. Our hotel was Fuente de Piedra II, so really he had two chances to have heard that name in the city, but no, he’d no clue where that hotel was. Or, it seemed, where he himself was at that moment. Nonetheless, he started driving, making a right turn where Suzy was praying he would turn left. Suddenly we were going through streets we’d never seen before.

A mobile phone rang in the back seat and Suzy picked it up and handed it to the driver. He answered it and had a conversation with the phone’s owner, who had called to find its whereabouts. There was the joyous moment on our journey when the driver dropped the phone into the passenger’s footwell and bent down to retrieve it while still driving along the road.

Rightly coming to the conclusion that he didn’t know where he was going, our taxi driver pulled over. He looked at our map, Suzy pointed, said things, he looked some more and then set off again. The map consultation didn’t seem to have helped though and eventually Suzy saw something she recognised and we baled out. We walked back to our hotel from there, nearly as far as we would have walked without the taxi driver’s “help”.

Prices are much lower in Quito. It cost us just $2 for a fright.

Click on the merry band of travellers for just a few pics from our last day on the boat

At 3.12pm I found myself looking at my bottle of chocolate liqueur, wondering if it was socially acceptable to start drinking yet.

When we awoke on the seventh day (this is all sounding rather Biblical), the island of Rabida was outside our cabin, with red rock, sea lions and pelicans. We set off in the panga at 8am as usual and sailed around the coast. All our usual animal, vegetable and mineral friends were there, ready to pose for us: blue-footed boobies, a lava heron, holy stick, prickly pear, fur seals and a big pile of marine iguanas on a rock, who took a moment out of their busy schedules to spit into the water.

When we came into shore, Galapagos suddenly decided to show us who was boss with a big wave that came over the end of the panga. A few people got wet bums and Glynn nearly lost his sandal to the Pacific. I had my wettest landing of the trip as Enriqué dumped me into ankle-deep water as the panga followed him up the shore.

Most of the group then helped Enriqué and Luis to get the panga back into the water. Chris, Celestine and I instead retreated further up the beach to take photos. Luis was then stuck with trying to get back into the panga from the water.

The beach on which we landed (with gusto) was red sand, like ground up clinker from our old Parkray fire at home. We saw lava lizards and our first fur seals. Ghost crabs were scurrying across the sand from hole to hole in a ridiculous fashion. I could have watched (and giggled at) them for hours.

We left the beach, stopping at a lagoon, which sea lions use as their final resting place. Further on, up a rocky red path between holy stick and prickly pears, we stopped here and there to admire the views, take photos, or to just have a breather. Enriqué took photos of me and Suzy with our cameras. Mine first - “say cheese”, he called. He took Suzy’s camera, we smiled and he called “say booby!”, making us laugh.

Further along our walk I saw a pretty flower and stopped to photograph it. Just as a bee flew into the shot, Enriqué named the flower for us, “Galapagos morning glory … with a Galapagos bee.”

Back at the beach we waited for the panga, dabbling our bare toes in the ocean. Suzy and I share a love for interesting rocks (she once brought a big blue rock back from a Greek beach for me - and then cycled 3 miles from her house to mine, carrying it on her back in her rucksack) and took photos of our feet framing a big lump of red lava rock that Suzy had found in the water. The waves were not on our side and kept trying to cover the rock and our toes with sand - and get my shorts wet too if at all possible. Not to be defeated, Suzy kicked the rock further and further up shore so I could get the shot without drowning.

When the panga arrived, it was another fight to get back into it and to then get it afloat again. A sailor’s delight, that beach. Much like me.

After lunch we headed to Bartolomé and were greeted by some Galapagos penguins on rocks near the shore. We had a dry landing and almost immediately joined a path that filled my sandals with fine grey grit. Enriqué told us that we were going to climb the mountain that lay ahead. Great. This was the hottest day of our trip so far. And that mountain looked kinda steep.

There was a wooden walkway up to the peak, with gaps between the planks just perfect for catching the toes of my sandals. The walkway turned into steps and I ploughed on, overtaken by most of the group. Every now and again there was a platform on which to catch our breath, while Enriqué - who, as usual, looked pristine, shower-fresh and betrayed no sign of having just climbed halfway up a mountain in flip-flops - told us more about our surroundings. As we got higher, I was often the last to reach these resting points, but dear Suzy was always there ready to hand me the water bottle and prop me up. Eventually we reached the top and were rewarded with stunning views of a magical, moon-like landscape. Pinnacle Rock was below us, with our boat moored nearby.

The sun was by now so hot that I could feel my skin burning despite the sun cream I had applied. I was at a viewpoint slightly below the highest point when I heard cries of “whale!” coming from those right up at the top. I went up to join them and watched the ocean for a while. I saw a couple of blows off in the distance, but it was so far away - and so surreal - that I felt as though I wasn’t sure whether I’d seen it or not.

We made our long way back down the mountain and saw more blows, one of which I managed to capture on my camera.

Suddenly, as it if it hadn’t made itself clear with the big wave, Galapagos decided to underline its earlier point by throwing me to the ground. A flat rock appeared out of nowhere in the gritty path and I was suddenly sprawled flat on my face. Ouch. I don’t know quite how it happened; I wasn’t looking at my camera’s display, or the sea. I guess I might just have lost concentration for a moment and Galapagos saw an opportunity.

But for a little bloody gash on my elbow and a few little scratches on my camera, I wasn’t hurt, but felt rather shaken. I hate falling over as it makes me feel like such a fool - though I’m sure this isn’t unique to me. I just wanted to get back onto the boat and feel sorry for myself for a little while, but instead we all got back into the panga and went whale-chasing.

At first I was just internally grumpy, still feeling a bit shaken and cursing the splashes of salt water that kept trying to decorate my lens, but as we neared the whales, these feelings faded. There were at least two whales - an adult and juvenile - swimming around our panga, occasionally blowing or breaking the surface of the water, making us all exclaim and point with increasing excitement. Somehow, despite their fleeting appearances and a full panga, I managed to get this:

Finally, we went back to Amigo and Suzy went snorkelling while I stayed on board and tried to get the grit out of my elbow. One big bit wouldn’t budge, despite repeated attempts to pull it out with tweezers. Weeks later, when the scab came off, only a tiny fragment of rock came with it, so I do think that I’ve absorbed a tiny piece of the Galapagos Islands, to carry with me for the rest of my days. Before the snorkellers set off in the panga, Enriqué came to see how I was and charmed me, making me feel much better, saying that I’d probably tripped trying to get the best photo.

That evening, everyone gathered on deck for thank yous from the crew (all done up in their smart sailor uniforms) and the briefing for the next day. Ricardo handed out delicious cocktails and, with just two left on his tray, walked straight past us. At dinner, when Suzy didn’t finish her starter, he offered her more food. When he came to collect our plates after the main course, he picked up my half-empty plate, made as if to take it back to the kitchen hatch, but instead offered Suzy what I’d left. As a treat on our last night, Virgy had made us a chocolate and prune cake for dessert.

After our meal Suzy and I went to our cabin to pack our rucksacks and write some more diario. Suzy and I had spent many happy times sitting on the floor of our cabin and chatting. I would quite often have my feet up against the sliding door, while Suzy would hang hers out of the opening onto the walkway outside. That night her protruding feet were repeatedly tickled (and miaowed at) as José walked back and forth to the bridge next door to our cabin. Our mate Virgy visited us as well and even Enriqué stopped by. He wanted us to know that people were drinking Fanta and rum downstairs and had that wonderful warm jovialness that comes over you when the alcohol just starts to hit your senses.

Click on the sunset to see the whole set