The (Mis)adventures of Jyl: Galápagos

We kick off a week-long, evolutionary trip to one of the most famous, and isolated, island chains in the world. And Jyl starts us off with some travel tips and background on the tropical location.

Welcome back, misadventurers. When I think of the Galápagos Islands, the first things that come to mind are crystal-clear blue water, giant tortoises, and the kind of untouched natural beauty that ends up in a documentary narrated in a calm British voice. Most visitors arrive expecting science, wildlife, and landscapes famous for helping reshape humanity’s understanding of evolution. Sea lions sleep beside docks. Giant tortoises wander slowly across volcanic terrain. Haunted is not usually part of the conversation, and that’s exactly why I’m here.

Long before research vessels and eco-tourism, the Galápagos carried a far less idyllic reputation. Spanish sailors first encountered the islands in the sixteenth century and quickly learned they were difficult places to survive. Fresh water was scarce, terrain was unforgiving, and navigation around volcanic shorelines proved dangerous. By the seventeenth century, pirates and privateers had begun using the archipelago as a remote refuge, drawn by hidden coves that allowed ships to resupply far from imperial patrol routes.

Maritime records confirm that crews often stayed for months at a time, repairing ships and hunting giant tortoises for food storage during long voyages. Sick or dying sailors were sometimes left behind, either intentionally or out of necessity. Over time, reports emerged of strange lights along isolated shores and figures seen moving across lava fields where no settlements existed. Whether these sightings were born from exhaustion, superstition, or something less explainable, the islands developed an early reputation as places where people disappeared easily.

Nearly two centuries later, the islands would gain fame for entirely different reasons when Charles Darwin arrived aboard the HMS Beagle in 1835. Darwin’s observations of finches, tortoises, and other species helped shape the theory of evolution, demonstrating how life adapts in isolation over time. His work transformed the Galápagos into a symbol of scientific clarity and natural order.

In the early twentieth century, settlers began arriving in search of reinvention, none more famously than German physician Friedrich Ritter and his partner Dore Strauch, who established a remote homestead on Floreana Island in 1929. Seeking philosophical isolation from European society, they promoted their new life as a return to simplicity, unintentionally attracting international attention and additional settlers.

Among those arrivals was the self-proclaimed Baroness Eloise Wehrborn de Wagner-Bosquet, whose dramatic entrance in 1932 introduced instability into an already fragile community. Armed, charismatic, and accompanied by multiple lovers, she announced plans to build a luxury hotel despite the island’s lack of infrastructure. Letters written by residents describe escalating rivalries, jealousy, and fear within a population too small to avoid conflict.

In 1934, the Baroness and one companion vanished without confirmed explanation. No verified ship departure was recorded, and their bodies were never recovered. Within months, additional settlers died or disappeared under circumstances still debated by historians. By year’s end, nearly everyone connected to the original settlement had either fled or perished, leaving behind one of the most enduring unsolved mysteries, now known as the Galápagos Affair.

A decade later, suffering on the islands took a more institutional form on Isabela Island, where Ecuador established a penal colony. Between 1945 and 1959, prisoners were forced to construct what is now known as the Wall of Tears, an eighty-foot structure built from volcanic stone carried by hand under brutal conditions, that literally had no purpose other than punishment. Survivors later described extreme heat, violence from guards, and deaths during construction, with bodies buried nearby or lost entirely.

Visitors today frequently describe an oppressive stillness around the site, occasionally broken by sudden echoes moving unpredictably through the stone. Guides often attribute these experiences to acoustics and shifting air currents, yet the emotional weight remains undeniable. Unlike many haunted locations shaped primarily by legend, the suffering here is thoroughly documented.

Modern researchers and park staff occasionally report subtler phenomena across the islands. Lava terrain carries sound across surprising distances, and prolonged isolation has measurable psychological effects. Scientists stationed for extended periods have written about auditory distortions, vivid dreams, and the persistent sensation of presence in otherwise empty landscapes.

Taken individually, each era offers rational explanations. Yet viewed together, a pattern emerges. Across centuries, the Galápagos repeatedly attracted people seeking escape, reinvention, or control, and just as often those ambitions ended badly.

The islands themselves remain indifferent. Wildlife continues uninterrupted. Volcanic ground reshapes slowly beneath species that evolved without fear of humans. Tour boats arrive and depart on schedule. Perhaps that indifference is what unsettles visitors most. The Galápagos are not haunted in the traditional sense. And in a place that helped explain how life evolves over time, it is striking how many human stories here remain unfinished.

Jyl Glenn is a writer, editor, formatter, anthologist, poet, and a medical-legal writer and consultant. Her lifelong love affair with horror began at a very early age when she was left unattended on the weekend Poltergeist debuted on HBO. And then she figured out she could read any horror book she liked as long as she hung out at the public library, even if the librarian deemed it not to be age appropriate. Jyl was born and raised in New York and now lives in Tulsa with her dog. She loves creepy art, dark poetry, and pink dinosaurs. When she isn’t dabbling in the macabre—she’s most likely asleep.

PLEASE NOTE: The views and opinions of the staff of Memento Mori Ink do not necessarily represent those of Memento Mori Ink or Crystal Lake Publishing. Thank you for understanding.