Legend has it that Francis Drake hid a cache of silver on this small, dry patch of land off the coast of Ecuador; others swear its name comes from the metallic glint cast on it by moonlight, or by guano. Naturalists, for their part, have settled on their own nickname: the "Galápagos of the mainland." Isla de la Plata, just an hour and a half by boat from the coast, is in fact home to some of the very birds that made the far-off archipelago famous, with none of the distance or the paperwork. For small ships cruising along the Ecuadorian coast, the stop makes for an irresistible wild interlude between two ports.

A Protected Outcrop in Machalilla Park

The site belongs to Machalilla National Park, which watches over one of the last remaining patches of dry forest along the Ecuadorian coast. Landing takes place in a small cove, and everything that follows abides by the park's rules: looped trails, groups accompanied by a guide, no collecting, no straying off path. The terrain is steep, and so is the sun; the loop trails take one to three hours of walking depending on the route chosen, along ridges where the view plunges down to a deep blue Pacific. The park's guides know every nest and every season; their explanations turn a hike into an open-air biology class, though never in that stiff a tone.

Blue-Footed Boobies, a Metre from the Trail

Here, the nests sit right at the edge of the path, sometimes on it. Blue-footed boobies brood their eggs as hikers walk by, males lift their turquoise feet in their tightrope-walker's courtship dance, and fluffy chicks beg without the slightest shyness. Depending on the season, frigatebirds join in too, red throat pouch inflated like a balloon, along with Nazca boobies perched on the cliffs. Some thirty bird species frequent this tiny territory: photographers never have to work to get close, since it's the island that comes to them.

Beneath the Surface

After the walk comes the mask and snorkel. The waters around the island shelter reef fish, green sea turtles, and, with a bit of luck, a manta ray gliding by like a shadow. The water stays cooler here than in the Caribbean, and visibility shifts with the swell, but few places let you string together cliffs full of birds and an underwater garden within the same half-day. A few sea lions also frequent the shoreline rocks, one more nod to the archipelago of which this modest headland is a humble cousin.

Whales, from June to October

During the southern winter, humpback whales migrate up from Antarctic waters to give birth along this coast. The crossing then becomes a watch: distant blows, raised flukes, sometimes a full breach that draws a cheer from the entire boat. Captains cut the engine at such moments, and the waiting itself becomes part of the pleasure. Local operators advertise near-guaranteed sightings at the height of the season, and more often than not, reality backs them up. Puerto López, the departure port, lives by the rhythm of this migration: whale murals on the walls, blue boats pulled up on the shore, frigatebirds patrolling above the fish market.

What to Pack

• A hat, plenty of water, and sturdy shoes: shade is scarce and the trails are rocky.
• Landing can get your feet wet; water shoes or amphibious sandals are a good idea.
• Seasickness: bring what you need, the crossing can be rough depending on the swell.

Later, as the island's pale silhouette fades behind the wake, everyone tallies up their own haul: turquoise feet, a scarlet throat, maybe a whale's tail raised against the horizon. Drake's treasure is still out there somewhere; the travellers' own, meanwhile, is already safely stored in the camera.