鈥淭he problem with giant tortoises is that they really love my papayas,鈥� said David Sol铆s as he looked past me toward听his orchard, shifting his weight to get a better look in case one of the mega-reptiles was helping itself to lunch at that very moment.听

It was October听2020,听and we were standing on Sol铆s鈥檚 farmstead outside the tourist center of Puerto Ayora, on the Gal谩pagos听Island of Santa Cruz. Clouds were rolling down from volcanic peaks above; below, only a few Ecuadorean visitors wandered around town. Earlier in the year, in March, as the virus caused havoc on mainland Ecuador, the islands went into strict lockdown.听When they听officially at the start of July, few听actually made the journey in the months to follow. Around 300,000 visitors had been expected in 2020, though by year鈥檚 end听just 75,519 had been registered. With around of the islands鈥� $800 million annual income coming from tourism, their absence was a disaster.听

Yet, for Sol铆s, things didn鈥檛 seem exactly catastrophic鈥攖hroughout 2020, cash had lost a lot of its power on the islands, and farmers like him, able to provide for themselves and their communities, felt newly enriched. 鈥淲hen I was younger, we traded everything and money wasn鈥檛 so important,鈥� he said as we walked past his papaya trees. Farther up the slope, he grew sugarcane, while neighboring farms specialized听in coffee. 鈥淲e鈥檝e gone back to that now, and I have more time for everything,鈥� he said. 鈥淏efore, I felt like I was running to make money, so maybe I prefer things to stay like this.鈥�

While individual mayors oversee the archipelago鈥檚 five inhabited islands, various local government departments鈥攆rom public health to tourism to environment鈥攁re in charge of protecting and managing some 97 percent of the islands鈥� land as the , as well as the Galapagos Marine Reserve that encircles the islands. With so many involved parties, even without input from the central government in the capital of Quito, the islands can be a Frankensteinian monster of bureaucracy. As traffic and then goods started to slow from the continent, Gal谩page帽os turned to each other and a simpler way of life to take care of themselves.听

During the strict 11-week lockdown that began in March, the majority of the 30,000 residents entered into a barter system. Fruit was traded for meat; milk for English lessons. Clothes were handed down,听not just within families but through the community. At one point, Sol铆s swapped 50 oranges for some dental work. Elsewhere, Brett and Maria Peters, the affable owners of Gal谩pagos Deli in Puerto Ayora, traded produce they couldn鈥檛 use in their restaurant for houseplants to decorate their new home. Nature guide Lola Villacreses, realizing she wasn鈥檛 going to be aboard any cruise ships for the foreseeable future, did a crash course online and began growing fruits and vegetables on her smallholding in the fertile Santa Cruz Highlands. During my two-month stay, whenever I bumped into her around Puerto Ayora, she gave me a bucket of tomatoes.听

鈥淭hings have been changing very fast. All the money used to be in the town,鈥� said Matias Espinosa, a dive master and naturalist on Santa Cruz whose businesses had been crippled by the pandemic. 鈥淐ovid froze all our enterprise. Instead, we have this trading now, so these farmers are the kings of the island.鈥�

Cash wasn鈥檛 abandoned entirely鈥攅ven during the strictest lockdown measures from March to June, locals had to use it to pay for fuel for fishing boats that brought in catch on behalf of the community (there was no shortage of fuel, due to an excess created from the lack of ship, taxi, and tour bus usage), among other transactions. Upon returning, the day鈥檚 bounty was announced over megaphones, and fish that would ordinarily be exported to Miami at great expense was taken door to door and simply given away, with the understanding that the fisherman and their families would be taken care of with other goods and services in return.听

At times, I thought this sounded Edenic: travesty bonding a community at the very edge of the world, allowing them to eschew money in favor of organic trade and kindness. Inevitably, it was more complicated than that. Many shops and restaurants around Puerto Ayora had been shuttered, and there was no respite from crippling interest on business loans. Of the fleet of around 100 tourist boats and ships that would ordinarily cruise the islands, just three were in service when I visited. Owners were concerned that if tourist dollars didn鈥檛 return and revive at least some of these businesses, things would grow desperate and residents may have to resort to fishing in sanctioned areas or hunting endemic species, both of which were common practice before tourism spurred conservation designations in the late 1960s.听

鈥淭he Gal谩pagos has shown that tourism can directly support conservation,鈥� said Espinosa, who had spent years training divers on Isabela Island to become nature guides. Before, some of those divers made a living by scouring the ocean floor for sea cucumber and lobster to sell to Chinese exporters. He felt as though the eyes of the world were watching to see how the islands managed ecology and tourism, especially in the COVID-19 era. While the pandemic has forced the islands to adapt in some ways, the longer-term effects remain unclear as the government focuses on its immediate financial crises. But Espinosa has hope that this period will have a lingering effect, at least in the way it鈥檚 proven how adaptable the islands and its people are. 鈥淚 think we need to go back to Mister Charles Darwin,鈥� said Espinosa, referring to the British scientist, whose theories on evolution were partly formed by a five-week visit to the Gal谩pagos in 1835. 鈥淭he tourism industry needs its own kind of Darwinism. How can we shrink and survive and reset?鈥�

Two hours west from Santa Cruz via a bumpy speedboat ride is Isabela, the largest and wildest of the Galpagos Islands. Comprising five volcanoes fused together by eruptions and time, Isabela is the most remote of the archipelago鈥檚 islands; west of it is nothing but the Pacific Ocean听until you hit the Papuan island of Biak, while heading south will eventually get you to Antarctica鈥檚 Ross Ice Shelf.听

Despite having more land mass听than all the other islands combined, Isabela is home to just 2,200 people, who inhabit a tiny sliver between the volcanoes and sea. It鈥檚 also the only stretch of land in the Gal谩pagos not designated as a national park. Consequently, it doesn鈥檛 have much infrastructure. Even in an ordinary year, the rudimentary airstrip took only a few light aircraft from other islands, but in 2020, it had barely been used. San Cristobal, home to the islands鈥� largest medical facility and its only ventilators, is at least four hours away by boat. This remoteness was often sold as Isabela鈥檚 great appeal鈥攖he end of the line, away from the mass tourism on Santa Cruz鈥攂ut COVID-19 rendered that wildness a potentially fatal liability for tourists and residents alike.

When I met guide Pablo Valladares by the island鈥檚 main dock, Isabela had only just opened up to outsiders. Valladares, who leads hiking and nature tours across the island, explained that I was his first guest since February, and that after our days together in late October, he didn鈥檛 have anything else booked for the rest of 2020.听

Valladares鈥檚 availability was unheard of鈥攖he last time Sir David Attenborough and his BBC crew came to Isabela, he was their local fixer. His day rate was high, his availability low, and then the world shut down. For several months, he鈥檇 been spending his time surfing and tending to a small farm, grateful he had some savings. It wasn鈥檛 ideal, but he was nonetheless relieved to have been able to make ends meet.听

The previous spring, Valladares had been on a trip of his own, to Nicaragua鈥檚 Corn Islands, when the pandemic broke and he听found himself in a frantic dash home to beat Ecuador鈥檚 national lockdown. With his wife and son, Valladares made it as far as his sister鈥檚 apartment in the plague-ridden city of Guayaquil before the planes stopped. After a grueling three-month lockdown there, the family returned to Isabela, where they quarantined. On arriving, Valladares found that his neighbor had dropped off a basket of fruit from his garden. These care packages continued to arrive every day until he could finally cross the street and shake the man鈥檚 hand. He repaid this debt by teaching the neighbor鈥檚听son how to surf.

As of March 2021, Santa Cruz has seen a slight improvement in tourist numbers, reducing its dependency on bartering. Though many local businesses remain closed, supply lines from the mainland are no longer an issue, and with the arrival of vaccines, hope for more of a revival later this year is growing. The same cannot be said on remote Isabela, where the reliance on trading has continued in lieu of visitor dollars.听The internet connection on the island is notoriously unreliable, but there is enough bandwidth to coordinate through a huge and sometimes unruly WhatsApp group of 256 members, the maximum allowed by the app.

Valladares explained that this ramshackle marketplace was also being supplemented by hunting feral animals. In the 1800s, buccaneers brought animals like pigs, goats, donkeys, and cattle to the islands, where they quickly broke loose, settled, and started causing havoc for endemic species, trampling on bird nests, eating young tortoises, and spreading seeds of invasive flora.听

For decades, the progeny of these original invaders have been reduced, though they still inhabit听the park and roaming freely on Isabela. At the start of the pandemic, residents revived a form of hunting, heading out of town on horseback and returning with feral cattle or pigs.听

鈥淗unting has been happening on the Gal谩pagos since the first settlers were here,鈥� Valladares told me the following day as we hiked toward听the Sierra Negra volcano, a blasted, blackened peak that rises above Puerto Villamil, the only real settlement on Isabela. 鈥淥f course, back then they were going after the giant tortoises, too, but it wasn鈥檛 really a hunt, more like a collection.鈥�

With more wild mammals听abundant, no one seriously looks at the reptiles in that light anymore. Besides, tourists are unlikely to come back if the locals are eating the emblem of the islands, Valladares added. In any case, he expects it will take at least two years for tourism to fully recover here. In the meantime, trading among the islanders will need to continue. 鈥淲e have to adapt,鈥� he said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 one of the golden rules here on Gal谩pagos.鈥�

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