Your mother and I are very proud.

Uninhabited islands seem a trope, right?   What would you bring to, what book would be your only reading material on, what album would be the only thing you listened to for the rest of your life on , who would you want to be trapped with on, etc.   

The Galapágos are famously unpeopled.  Endemic species might be destroyed by too much traffic, eaten up by accidentally-imported rats, intermixed with species from another island and lose its special traits.  They might be eaten up by people, too.  That’s how the giant tortoises nearly collectively bought the farm.  Species that simply stop off at the islands, sharks and sea turtles and whales and even albatrosses, might be frightened away if repeatedly harassed.

Firm measures have been taken, then, by a park service, a municipal government, a state government, and a special Galápagos preserve administration to keep the islands pristine or at least safeish. 

Maintaining what the islands takes a good deal of work. Travel to and between the islands is tightly controlled. Species like wasps, rats, and goats are terminated with, as they say, extreme prejudice.

Visitors are controlled, too, and this control reflects the social and economic realities of Galápagos tourism. They mostly speak (and read) English. Most people to who make it to the Galápagos are from the US, though there are some programs which bring Ecuadorian school children and teachers to the islands. Maintaining this uninhabited space is expensive, after all. These primitive conditions are the product of incredibly sophisticated control.

Which is to say that if you were marooned on these islands, you’d have daily visitors, bringing you a WSJ subscription. But your main reading material might be a big book of regulations.