We seem to attract lead-footed daredevil taxi drivers. Today we must have set a world record for the 42 km between Puerto Ayora and the ferry to Baltra. Despite the pot holes, other vehicles, on coming traffic and occasional roadworks our driver happily sped at 120 km/hr, having to break to a sudden stop after overtaking <300 m from an idle digger to avoid a head-on collision with oncoming traffic in the single remaining lane. Dan braced the ceiling. I caught my backpack as it flew off the seat next to me. The driver laughed. Almost made it.
We are on the ferry now, back across to Baltra where we board our flight to Guayaquil then Quito. No more sounds of water lapping at the shore or the smell of whatever fuel the ferries and boat use. No more lizards running everywhere. No more landscape overrun with introduced plants.
Waiting at the dock for the next bus with the handful of others that didn't make the bus already there, not knowing when the next bus would come and if we'd make our flight made for captivating people watching. A few trucks laden with people standing on the tray arrived and received a rush of people desperate to get to the airport – only a five minute drive away.
As two more ferry loads of passengers arrived, people began standing on the road as there is no signage to suggest forming a queue. We moved to stand in the sun at the kerb, rather than in the shade on a bench. Nobody cares if you were there first. There are no tickets. After 45 min when two buses finally arrived, full of passengers from the airport people moved forward, blocking the road.
Thankfully two buses soon arrived.