There’s a silence on North Seymour Island, one that’s filled with sounds, as most silences tend to be. A magnificent frigate fluffs its wings, sea lions grunt sporadically, and now a blue-footed booby starts hopping around. A dozen shades and a thousand animals fill my panorama but I can’t take in the visuals. I can’t admire the aesthetics. All I think is about is the sound. On a windswept Pacific Island, 1,000 kms from mainland Ecuador, I’m close enough to hear a seabird hopping.

The Galapagos Islands stand like lost sentinels in the Pacific, a flurry of volcanic pinnacles that have never been connected to any continental landmass. Darwin had a lot of fun here, concocting his theory by discovering how species had evolved distinctly dependent on which island they were marooned.

Flamboyant displays have emerged here and the archipelago is packed with the sublime and the surreal. Looking up from the hopping blue feet I see a slither of azure contrast with resplendently white chest feathers. Now the blue-footed booby extends his wings in a final plea to his finicky suitor. The female stops. Thinks. And flutters off. The bigger and brighter the better in the Galapagos and there’s hundreds of other hopping males to inspect on North Seymour.

The archipelago’s very name creates impressions of abundant wildlife. Yet, I soon discover that the Galapagos isn’t a place to find hundreds of different species. Fresh water is only found on three of the 15 islands and fresh lava flows provide an often desolate landscape. Instead, the archipelago is a haven for the specialists, the hyper-evolved whose ancestors arrived on felled trees that floated from the mainland, some two-million years ago.

On South Plaza I admire marine iguanas, camouflaged figures that drink sea water and then sneeze out the salt with a flurry of bizarre white. Santa Fe’s land iguanas sit for days beneath prickly-pear cactus trees, blasé about my presence as they wait for a fruit to drop.

Pink flamingos wade around saline lagoons at Las Bachas, further shocks of colour for my Galapagos canvas. Then the walking trail at North Seymour takes me past the nesting ground of magnificent frigates, iconic birds that inflate their scarlet throat sacks and proudly point them towards passing females.

Perhaps, it’s the tortoises that most epitomise how evolution has a different story on each island. Hundreds of them elegantly graze across the Santa Cruz highlands, their 250kgs frames lining the grass like mystical boulders. I once had a pet tortoise called Speed, that unfortunately ran away. Three times. Twice, it was returned by neighbours the third time I found it floating in a pond. So I feel a need to make some kind of apology to its distant cousins.

Like all Galapagos wildlife, the tortoises are completely nonchalant about human presence

Marching over, I’m full of sentimental statements but three tortoises quickly hide their necks inside their iconic frames. Five more do the same, until the guide enlightens me: giant tortoises can hardly see but sense the vibrations through the earth. So I walk on tiptoes at a tortoise pace to say hello.

One stops with a single green blade hanging curiously from its mouth, three walk past with surprising speed, and a large male starts biting the shell of another to claim the best grazing spot. I whisper my apologies but the tortoises view me apathetically; like all Galapagos wildlife, they’re completely nonchalant about human presence.

Barrio graffiti

Yet, they’re not blasé in the way a zoo animal has been habituated. These remain wild animals in an untamed wilderness. Their attitudes stem from the lack of predators on the islands. Without threats, the species have instead being able to focus on adapting to the frugal environment. On Fernandina Island I watch endemic flightless cormorants disappear into the oceanic abyss, returning with a slithers of silver between teeth. They’ve lost their flight in return for a denser body that can dive to deeper waters.

For five days I cruise through the Galapagos Islands on a 40-capacity boat, indulging in the intimate scenes. Morning and afternoon excursions reveal secluded national park sites, places of mass seabird breeding or wandering reptiles. Most sites specialise in one or two iconic species, enabling me to stitch together the kaleidoscope fabric of colours and styles.

Blue-footed booby mating dance.

One species is omnipresent though. Sea lions. They bask on beaches of exotic white sand, somersault through the shallow waters I swim in, and make indecipherable guttural grunts whenever I walk along their cliffs.

As sunrise paints oceanic reflections the sea lions curiously inspect my kayak, heads popping from the water at regular intervals. On the Santa Fe beach, five female sea lions start a waddling race to reach me. I back off but they keep coming. Perhaps it’s the biodegradable shower gel I’ve been using? They stop less than a metre away, rise onto their fins and twist their necks towards my face.

Then the scene becomes a bizarre miming circus. When I crouch, the sea lions dip to the sand. I walk, they follow. I stand and they try to appear big. And then there’s a raucous grunt from nearby. The sea lions scatter and I spot the alpha male accelerating over. He’s a snarling 450kgs giant that’s surprisingly quick across the sand. I run, naturally, which appeases him, noting that I should never play with a sea lion harem again.

On the first day, the guides gave out strict guidelines about how close you can get to the wildlife. I remember them saying three meters. But the wildlife gets so close I have to actively get out of the way. Land iguanas are so well camouflaged on the volcanic walking trails that I end up stumbling over to avoid stepping on them. Then, the white-tip reef sharks and Galapagos penguins are so close to my snorkel it feels like they’re goading me into a game of hide and seek.

One species is omnipresent – sea lions

The only brief interruption to this wildlife immersion is when I stop and consider how much all this is costing me. For most of the cruise, the encounters are too intense to reflect on pricing. But during the downtime on the boat I fight the creeping snippets that ask whether it’s worth it.

Giant tortoises

Cruises start at around €360 per day. Then, there are the €453 for flights from the mainland and the €108 in national park fees. This unique natural realm is one for the travel bucket list, one that takes a few years of saving to work towards.

And it’s the hopping, blue-footed booby that confirms that the costs are justified. Gazing up from feet I switch my eyes to wide-angle. Nazca boobies are nesting nearby, a dozen iguanas rest on black rocks and there’s thousands of seabirds splayed out across the island. Yet, there’s not a single other person in the frame. Access to every Galapagos national park site is restricted to one group at a time. So the intimacy of these immersive wildlife scenes is elevated. It’s like the blue-footed booby is hopping around just for me. So I stop. Admire.

Getting there: Ecuador is the most common gateway to the Galapagos islands. Daily flights depart from its capital, Quito. Another option is the coastal city of Guayaquil. There are direct flights to Ecuador from most US major cities and from some European cities like Madrid, Spain.

www.galapagosislands.com