In the humid Galápagos highlands, surrounded by tall scalesia trees, biologist Carolina Proaño has her head to the ground, checking nests for signs of new eggs or recent visits. She has long been trying to save the Galápagos petrel, a critically endangered black and white seabird known for making its nest in the ground and returning to the same spot every year during mating season.
On her family farm on the island of Santa Cruz, Proaño has marked out a safe area for the petrels’ nests and tries to attract them by playing a recording of their calls on a loudspeaker. She then monitors the area using camera traps.
But a few months ago, Proaño visited the site and found two adult petrels dead in front of their nests. They had been attacked by stray dogs, introduced to the islands by humans and a growing menace to the local biodiversity.
“I nearly died [of shock],” says Proaño.
While reviewing camera trap images, she also spotted a cat lurking around the petrel nesting area. “I am seeing introduced species that are obviously a response to population growth,” she says. “It’s terrible.”
Ecuador’s Galápagos archipelago is known for its wide variety of unique and endemic species, such as large tortoises and the blue-footed booby, and their cohabitation with humans. But over the years, environmental and human-induced pressures have created challenges for the archipelago’s conservation initiatives and local populations.
The spike in tourism and population growth in recent years have been the main challenges. Both have risen steadily since 1959, when the Galápagos national park was created. The park protects 97% of the archipelago and leaves only 3% available to be inhabited by humans.
In 2023, nearly 330,000 visitors passed through the islands, a 23% increase from the previous year. Today, about 29,000 people live on the four inhabited islands, mainly to service the tourism industry.
For Proaño, the problem is not humans’ existence in this unique ecosystem, but the way people live and travel as if it were any other town or city.
One of the biggest repercussions has been the arrival of alien species. These include deliberate introductions to feed local demand for pets such as dogs and cats, which are often abandoned and are known to attack birds and baby iguanas and eat their eggs. It also includes bugs and parasites unintentionally introduced via cargo boats bringing building materials and food, as about 75% of the Galápagos’ food supply comes from the mainland.
The parasitic fly Philornis downsi has been particularly deadly for Galápagos birds, as it lays its eggs in nests, killing or debilitating hatchlings. It has been associated with the decline of the mangrove finch and medium tree finch, endemic birds already critically endangered.
Dozens of insects, such as various fire ants, wasps, and scale insects, have also been introduced and found to be highly invasive.
“It’s super complicated to maintain biosecurity control,” says Proaño. “There is not enough personnel or even a quarantine place to inspect everything that arrives here.”
Those species lucky enough to avoid these threats are at risk of being hit by speeding cars on the single highway that crosses Santa Cruz, or ingesting plastics accumulating at sea.
Water management is another problem. Like other inhabited areas of the islands, Santa Cruz lacks effective water management and sewage systems, which often leads to contaminated water being dumped in the sea. Little exists in terms of waste management either, as local landfills have long been left unattended, turning into mountains of garbage overflowing past security gates.
Overfishing has also depleted certain marine species over the years, like the sea cucumber, lobster, and bacala grouper, as fishers take advantage of high market prices, says Alex Hearn, a professor of biology at Quito’s Universidad San Francisco (USFQ) in Ecuador.
Since the pandemic, there have also been increased reports of some local fishers using longlining. This fishing technique uses one main line up to 50 metres long with baited hooks attached at intervals via shorter branch lines, making it more effective. It also makes it harder to control the marine life that swims into its hooks, putting sharks and even seabirds at risk.
Better management of Galápagos fisheries could help fishers access higher prices for their products so they do not have to resort to harmful fishing practices, Hearn says. This could include installing cameras in fishing boats to ensure that fish, like tuna, are responsibly caught and then selling that product locally at a higher price with a special seal of responsible fishing.
“They use ecologically friendly methods, and we focus on our local market. About 300,000 tourists come here each year – why are we exporting tuna to Miami? It doesn’t make any sense,” says Hearn.
The Charles Darwin Foundation, Galápagos’s largest science and conservation organisation, refused to comment on the pressure facing the archipelago. Neither the Galápagos national park nor the Galápagos governing council agreed to the request for an interview.
Gunter Reck, a recently retired biology professor and co-director of the Institute of Applied Ecology at USFQ, is not convinced that these external pressures threaten Galápagos ecosystems but warns that they must be dealt with.
He says concerns about overpopulation and tourism have repeatedly been raised over his past 50 years of working in the islands, but these ecosystems have remained intact. Conservation efforts have also rescued several species, such as iguanas and tortoises.
“All the problems are there, but much can also be achieved with corrective measures. So we have to keep working on that,” he says. “I don’t see the situation very negatively.”
The local community, on the other hand, has another concern about tourism: the instability of its income. Santiago Insuasti, an independent diving guide in San Cristóbal, says it is not easy being dependent on its revenue.
After a record year in 2023, tourism has dropped in 2024, after president Daniel Noboa declared an internal war against organised crime in January in response to increased violence on the mainland. Insuasti says his business has dropped about “60% or 70%” compared to last year.
Three months ago, he opened a small restaurant to try to recoup some of his losses, but much of the profit is going to pay for flights back to Guayaquil, a port city on the mainland, as his wife is seriously ill and in need of medical care that the islands do not provide.
Insuasti, known locally as “the plastic man” for his campaigning and weekly rounds picking up plastic on the beach, says he is concerned that millions of dollars go to conservation projects on the islands, which rarely involve engagement with local communities or long-term planning.
According to him, tourism has not been enough to improve essential, underfunded public services, such as education and healthcare. Local schools, he says, don’t even teach kids about conservation. “They are leaving aside the community,” he says.
The dip in tourism affects everyone on the islands, even those in the highlands, farthest away from the industry. Cecilia Guerrero, a retired school teacher turned farmer, lives off her three-hectare organic farm in Santa Cruz. She sells a variety of vegetables, edible flowers, and tropical fruit to hotels and restaurants in the city. But this year, demand dropped about 50% she says.
“We were just recovering [from the pandemic], and now with this violence the country is experiencing, it has gone down more,” she says.
Allegedly to cope with the demands for better infrastructure, conservation initiatives and community programmes to mitigate tourism’s footprint, Noboa announced earlier this year plans to increase entrance fees to the island. Prices for international tourists jumped from $100 to $200 and for national tourists from $6 to $30.
Ramiro Adrian, naturalist and guide who grew up in the archipelago, says the big international tour companies are not likely to suffer from these changes, but the local independent guides, farmers and fishers are likely to feel the pressure from decreased local and low-budget tourism.
“Where is that money going to go? Are they going to do anything different or just charge more money, making more money for themselves?” says Adrian,who believes the additional revenue from the fees should go towards education and long-term sustainability plans involving local communities.
“I think we can become the model that we say we are,” he says. “But we’re not there yet.”
