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Published: September 19th 2012
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I gasp involuntarily, both from the shock of the bone-snappingly cold wind of these high Andean plains and the sight of the volcanic crater that drops dramatically away beneath my feet. The walls, serrated from violent eruptions and the incessant whippings of the winds, plummet downwards until they meet the blue-green water of the mystical crater lake, known in these parts as Laguna Quilotoa. The indigenous natives of this region of Ecuador believe that the lake is bottomless, which it may as well be, for it is thought to be roughly 800m in depth. That’s one hell of a deep lake!
Having been in Ecuador twice before, yet only seeing Quito and the stupendously amazing Galápagos Islands, it was high time that I explored some more of the mainland. Through conversing with fellow travellers in our hostel in Quito, the decision was made to scrap our plans of visiting Baños and instead explore the villages, canyons, craters and valleys that constitute the Quilotoa Loop. I can’t help but feel that this was the right decision to have made, especially when considering that it is in these tiny settlements that I will drink in the South American air and
culture for the last time…well, for this year at least.
Getting from the Old Town of Quito to the tiny settlement of Quilotoa, which is located just below the outer rim of the crater and is home to roughly 100 residents, required a few bus journeys. The final bus we boarded was the most memorable, for the scenery is captivating and the road is, in parts, hardly a road at all. Alighting from the bus at the entrance to the village, we encountered a friendly young girl who had the responsibility of asking us for the $2 required to enter the village and enjoy the scenic delights of the crater.
After dropping off our backpacks, Caroline and I headed towards the crater, but got distracted by an indigenous lady softly calling out, “Artesan” from her door, inviting us to peruse her handmade garments. Her children seemed to be more intent on making sales than she was, but the calm and friendly demeanour exhibited by this lady is indicative of all the locals. They are a shy people, talking quietly and, in the case of the girls, with a cute timbre. The women all wear shawls, skirts, stockings and
stylish hats, often adorned with a colourful bird feather. While amidst these tiny people, in their clothes from an age past, surrounded by mountain ranges with the snowy peaks of Iliniza and Cotopaxi in the distance, there could be no doubt in our minds that we were in the fabled Andes. Moreover, we were not in a tourist hotspot, but rather a place for trekkers to explore, where local knowledge can sometimes be the only way to reach your desired destination.
After descending the slippery slope of the crater wall to the lake’s edge, dwarfed by the jagged peaks encircling us, we scrambled back up as the water turned a darker shade, the sun no longer being high enough in the sky to peer over the rim of this active volcano. With the sun bidding us farewell, the chill of these high plains really made its presence known and Caroline swiftly purchased an alpaca jumper from the afore-mentioned lady, before visiting another artisan for a beanie. We then huddled up by the wood-fire stove in our room and thawed out.
What I didn’t realise is that I should have followed Caroline’s example and also purchased a beanie, for
my beloved blue beanie that I bought on a cool evening in Marrakech some time ago was whisked off my head the next morning. We were skirting the perilous rim of the crater in some of the strongest wind gusts that I have ever encountered whilst trekking. The winds took my beanie on an erratic flight that reminded me of the otherwise invisible forces of nature. The conditions prompted a local farmer to climb the outer slope, encouraging us not to go on unless we had a guide, due to the conditions being too dangerous. We pushed on unaided, but not undaunted.
After three quarters of an hour, we spied a trail that would lead us to the village that marked the halfway point of our day’s trek, so we dropped down from the crater’s rim, bid farewell to the beauty of the lake below and continued our struggle against the sand, dust and dirt that struck our faces with a smarting sting.
Our destination was the tiny village of Chugchilán, which rests just above a plateau overlooking the valley we were now trekking through. Following roads, trails and goat tracks, we descended into the base of the
canyon to discover three boys waiting for us, obviously having heard us clomping through the brush. They then accompanied us for the remainder of our hike, pointing us in the right direction when we encountered a fork in the trail, indicating spots for us to take a rest and generally, being too shy to talk to us, yet wanting to observe these strange foreigners up close. After struggling up the canyon wall to Chugchilán (I blame the altitude…ahem), we thanked them in the form of Oreos and smiles, before moving off in search of our hostel.
Chugchilán would form our base for the next three nights, staying for the most part in the award winning eco lodge, ‘The Black Sheep Inn’. This is an impressive place, with delicious food, all natural processes (including composting toilets, which contain interior gardens and windows to enjoy the view), comfortable rooms, common areas and decks to sit upon, all allowing you to enjoy sumptuous views of the undulating valley. It’s pricey, but for the end of my travels, it’s the perfect place in which to spoil myself a little.
From Chugchilán, we took some day hikes through the surrounding valleys, passing through
small communities and even visiting a cheese factory. However, upon arriving at the factory we noticed a large contingent of locals who were queued up and seemed to regard us curiously. Hence, we didn’t enter the factory, though we later discovered the people were farmers bringing in their milk to be weighed and sold to the factory. When I write the word factory, that term may be misleading, for it is essentially a single storey building, not much bigger than your average house. The story behind this cheese factory is an interesting one: a Swiss guy decided to help out a struggling community by teaching them how to make cheese with Swiss technology. This has resulted in a self-sustaining cooperative that has since been copied in other areas and has ensured the survival of many of these tiny communities. Not sampling the cheese wasn’t worth complaining about though, as the walk from Chugchilán to the factory was worth it alone. We walked up ridgelines that afforded us unforgettable views of the countryside. The steeply sloping hills are dotted with homes and crops, providing a patchwork of colour interwoven by meandering goat tracks, linking the homes and settlements to their neighbours.
With the area also having cloud forest close at hand, numerous markets in the little villages, an abundance of canyons, rivers, volcanos and mountain ranges, whilst not forgetting the presence of indigenous culture, the Quilotoa Loop certainly has plenty to offer. Whilst I don’t particularly want to extricate myself from these surrounds, I have a compelling reason to finally return to home soil, for being Best Man at my brother’s wedding is both a privilege and an occasion to be excited about! See you soon, bro!!
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