Email from Ecuador

My work in Ecuador had pretty much reached its conclusion, and I felt I had done all I could. Never one to baulk at a challenge, I've taken up a post as volunteer assistant at the Galapagos National Park.

I am working on Isabella, the largest island of the archipelago, but with few residents. It's very quiet, but the Park has set me up with a project a little out of my usual line of work, so I've had no problems filling my time.

The Park wanted someone to write a guide for tourists – to identify the birds they see on paths through Isabella's wetlands. What I didn't fully appreciate at the time was that they also wanted someone to photograph the birds.

The truth is that I know almost nothing about photography. Even less about birds. I'm not what you'd call the ideal candidate for the job. Still, they packed me off with a manual 35 mm camera, a big 300 mm lens, a tripod and ten rolls of film. And crossed their fingers that I'd come back with the goods.

I am already convinced that the birds are out to get me. Take last night. The sun was setting behind a stunningly beautiful lagoon. A lone frigate bird perched on a dead tree at the opposite end of the lagoon, with another circling overhead. It was a magical photograph waiting to happen. I switched lenses to fit it all in, but before I could focus the camera, both birds had flown off. I swore.

Forty minutes later, after waiting for the birds to come back, the light was failing so I packed up the camera ready to cycle home. Just as I was doing up the camera case both birds reappeared. I swore again, louder.

Both the wildlife and scenery on Isabella are spectacular. The ride over to Isabella from the mainland was quite an experience. I got a ride on one of the National Park's speedboats – the kind they use to chase dodgy fishermen or tourist boats going where they shouldn't.

On the day I arrived, the Pacific was anything but. We crashed from wave to wave, like James Bond in a boat chase. The captain obviously loved a rough sea, and water splashing over the side (soaking the passengers) just added to his delight.

It was fun for the passengers too, for the first half-hour of the trip. Then when we'd all picked up bruises from hitting the side of the boat once too often, the novelty wore off. And we still had two hours to go.

Having experienced the delights of one star accommodation back in Ecuador, I thought I was ready for anything on the living quarters front. I may have been wrong.

I was shown to a spare room in the tortoise breeding centre where I was to sleep on the floor. The room was curiously decorated with three inch spiders, swarming moths and enough mozzies to sting every child in a large school. I won't describe the toilet.

On top of this, was the company transport. I am all for travelling by bike, but the road between the Park hq and tortoise hotel is unsurfaced, alternating between an inch of sand and largish rocks, with no form of lighting. And the bike is a vintage machine with more rust than paint, no lights or brakes and a chain that hasn't seen oil for the best part of 20 years. It was, without doubt, the worst bicycle I've ever used, and I've cycled a lot of old bikes.

To say that I was uniquely qualified for this trial by bike and lodgings would be an exaggeration. But there can't be many Gringos prepared to spend twenty minutes skidding around on sand in the dark on a rickety old bike every night, and then spend hours each day waiting patiently by a tripod on the off chance that a Common Cactus-finch will fly by.

My photos aren't the only new Park project on Isabella. In fact, a much more pressing concern stems from a two inch frog that has recently shown up in one of Isabella's lagoons. There aren't meant to be any amphibians in the Galapagos, but more and more frogs were being found by locals and taken to Park offices.

No one knows what effect these frogs could have on wetland ecology. It's feared that the frogs may eat mangrove trees – one of the few plants able to survive immersion in salt water. So the Park's hq sent out an eight-strong frog squad to catch the invaders before it's too late.

The frogs are nocturnal, so the froggers work through the night. On their first night out, the frogs managed to outwit the team. They didn't catch a single amphibian which was acutely embarrassing for them the next day when a small boy walked into the Park's offices with four frogs he'd captured in a jam jar.

Fortunately, the frog squad batting average has improved. To date they've caught nearly 500 frogs in makeshift butterfly nets. They've experimented with traps too, but the frogs aren't falling for it.