Andes to Coast

---

Sept 10 – I hit the road at daybreak, 6:15 am every day of the year in Ecuador, setting off on yet another solo drive over the Andes and down to the coast. Bottle of strong iced tea on the passenger seat. Check. Cheese and cracker snacks in a cooler bag. Check. Fresh audio book loaded onto my IPod Shuffle. Check. Sunglasses close at hand, luggage piled into the back seat -- I was ready to roll. The day dawned bright and clear and as the highway curved up towards Ambato the stunning snow-capped mountains Chimborazo & Carihuarazo came into view, gaspingly beautiful in the crystalline morning light.

Since I was headed for the central coast, I decided to take the most direct road across the Andes. I know the ascent well since it’s the route I generally take when driving for the volunteer engineers. During the past six years I’ve watched this roadway improve- slowly but surely grow wider with improved asphalt pavement. Friends who had recently come up this way told me that the whole road was finally complete all the way over the Andes.

As I climbed higher, each switchback brought me new vistas of the conical glacier peak of Cotopaxi (Ecuador’s Mt. Fuji) and ever-closer views of the spiky Ilinizas’ north and south peaks. I crossed the highest pass well above the tree line (its Kichwa name Huairapungo means Place of Wind). As I started down the western slopes, sparse grasses and scrubby bushes began to reappear. Rivers tumbled into waterfalls as the vegetation grew more dense and lush.

After descending for another hour I stopped in a tiny village to give a lift to a family, pushing my bags aside to make room for the ancient grandma in the passenger seat while the young folks piled into the truck bed. With each sharp turn granny toppled towards me and I awkwardly held her upright while trying to downshift. Arriving at the next town (Esperanza – Hope), I dropped off the family and picked up some road workers in their bright orange vests. After about 10 minutes the guys hopped out and came around to the window to inform me that the road had washed away and there was no through vehicle traffic beyond that point. WHAT?! I had just given them a ride to work, only to be turned back.

I was fuming as I backtracked up the mountains, livid that there had been NO notification of the road closure before actually getting to the point where it had slid down the hillside. Pissed off and puzzled as I saw buses heading down the way I’d just come, their signs indicating a city further down towards the coast. I stopped to ask some road surveyors why, if the road really was impassable, were there buses heading towards the coast. They explained that the buses were doing ‘trasbordos’ – offloading their passengers to walk across the landslide area and then re-board a waiting bus on the other side.

After climbing back up another hour I stopped in Zumbahua, a town almost at the highest point in the mountains, where I saw a bus driver fiddling with a tire. I asked him how it could be that I had to drive all that way only to find out I couldn’t go any further. Why weren’t there any signs?! He said that I should have been notified when leaving the market town of Pujili. Oh, the one that has a lovely new bypass loop road to avoid the town? The driver told me that instead of backtracking all the way to the Panamerican Highway, I could loop through some villages and drop back down below the road closure area. I grabbed a pen and wrote down the names.

I set off in the direction he indicated, taking a deep breath. The adventure was just beginning! Once I’d passed through the two towns I already knew, I was on virgin territory. Usually I feel a bit of a thrill when I’m driving on a road I’ve never explored before…but as I continued on and up and over and around, the steep, zig-zag gravel track seemed to deteriorate more and more. Whenever I saw a person (and there weren’t many) I asked them if I was going in the right direction towards the next town whose name I had scribbled on my pad. The road became so bumpy and winding that I found myself getting carsick, something that’s never happened to me before when I was driving!

At one point I reached a T junction along a steep hillside. Which way should I go? Argh! What to do? I got out and took a pee, crouching beside the front of my truck. Just then, I heard a rustling in the bushes. Maybe it was someone who could tell me which way to go at this crossroads…HOLA! I called out as a big cow nudged his nose around the outcropping. Dang it all! I chose the road to the left, continuing down tight dusty switchbacks. Just a few minutes below, I saw huge construction vehicles where my road crossed back over the other choice; I realized that the machinery could never have maneuvered these sharp curves so they’d cut a straight descent for the trucks.

Dropping down in altitude for the second time that day, I felt the road straighten out even as it became rockier and more rutted. A few shack-like dwellings appeared alongside a rushing stream, some propped up on huge boulders, one leaning precariously down the hillside. Tucked into deep green ravines I saw stunning waterfalls, trickling streams and ever greener plant life carpeting the steep hillsides. Just when I thought the road was going to completely disappear into a creek-bed, it reconnected with the paved highway. Whew! Definitely one of the hairiest solo drives I’ve done, not sure where I was headed or how long it would take to get there.

The asphalt highway felt like velvet beneath my wheels. I sped towards the coast as the road leveled and straightened before me. I hopped on a short-cut road towards Calceta, a route I’d never taken before. With the road improvements came fancy new road signs and I chuckled at the posted names of these tiny villages -- San Juan del Desvio (St John of the Detour), Come y Paga (Eat & Pay), Media Balsa (halfway to Balsa), Lugar de Alberto (Albert’s Place). I made it to Bahia de Caraquez an hour before dark and checked into the Saiananda estuary haven. As I hurried to use the restroom I realized that I’d been driving for 11 hours and had only gotten out of the truck once -- for that pee with the cow watching. (When I’d stopped for gas I didn’t budge from my comfy driver’s seat).

After a quick shower I hurried into town to meet Susy at my favorite pizza place … not the most logical dinner after eating only cheese & crackers all day, but what the heck! While I was waiting for Susy to arrive Jean & Dario pulled up and I was able to catch up with old friends and confirm plans for the following day. I had met Susy, a fun & lively Australian lady, over a dozen times when I’d stayed at her little guest house. She’d recent sold CocoBongo and built her own little dream dwelling on a cliffside overlooking Bahia’s vast estuary. I loved seeing her home, designed exactly for her lifestyle and simple needs.

The next day, after a luxurious breakfast on the Saiananda terrace overlooking the estuary fishermen and bird life, I met up with Jean in San Vicente, and we continued on to Briceno for lunch on the beach. Under a little thatched palapa the simple seafood restaurant staff hung two hammocks and set up a table and chairs for our lunch. For the next several hours, Jean and I lounged and chatted and ate and caught up. Jean had been my boss at the Colegio Americano in 1988 when I first arrived in Ecuador to teach English. Though we’ve kept in contact and our paths have crossed from time to time, this was the first time we’d really spent some quality time together. We have dozens of friends in common and share a deep love of Ecuador with all its nooks and crannies!

After lunch I gave Jean a lift back up to Canoa where she is helping out at the Rio Muchacho tourist office. From there I drove inland to the Rio Muchacho Permaculture farm and project, run by Nicola whom I’ve known since the early days of Alandaluz (1988-9). Nicola and Dario recently had twins and I hadn’t seen the babies since she first returned from New Zealand with her tiny babes in arm. Now they’re walking, babbling and are as cute as can be! With Nicola and the kids we climbed the embankment to watch the big tractors move earth to widen the road…better than TV!

At any given time there are at least a half a dozen volunteers staying at the Rio Muchacho farm. It’s always interesting to hear their stories, how they ended up spending a month or a year in rural Ecuador. I always enjoy the communal meals, eaten with simple coconut shell spoons out of earthenware bowls. Rio Muchacho is a place to remember that we only need the barest minimum of possessions to live well. As has happened when I’ve visited the farm in the past, I didn’t manage to summon the energy to hike to the waterfall, choosing instead to just hang out in a hammock reading and listening to the river burble beneath the terrace of my cabin and the birds sing in the trees above.

Continuing up the coast a bit I went to visit Jody & Boby, the couple who started the volunteer library in Banos now living on the coast. Boby has been working as handyman & jack-of-all trades at a large farm owned by an elderly American couple. He’s been their driver, electrician, interpreter, irrigation plumber but the relationship has come to an end and Jody & Boby were in their finally preparations to make a move 4 km down the road to the tiny fishing village of El Matal. They will be caretakers of a small house that Susy bought years ago but has never fixed up or lived in. We used my truck to haul some donated furniture to their new place, as well as a load of driftwood we collected to adorn the garden. How great to spend some quality time with these dear friends!

Driving south to Puerto Lopez I returned once again to Mandala, the hotel where I have worked on and off as substitute manager for over six years. In the past I’ve had to work long hours to the point of over-exhaustion. This time I was to share the job with a Swiss woman who has been working full-time for nearly a year as daytime receptionist and bookkeeper. I agreed to a decreased salary and a reduced schedule, Mon-Fri 4pm-close and all day Sat and Sun. Even as I accepted this new arrangement, I made a personal vow to use my free mornings to do more exercise!

My first commitment was to resume yoga classes with my beloved teacher Vanessa, just 20 minutes down the road at Otra Ola Yoga, Surf & Spanish School in Ayampe. There’s no lovelier place to practice yoga than on their natural bamboo terrace, with sounds of waves and birdsong as accompaniment. A tiny downside of outdoor yoga is mosquitoes. Vanessa commented that they weren’t bothering her as much as usual, I explained that it was because they were all attracted to me, especially the warmth & fragrance of my sweaty body. I wore leggings and slathered myself with natural repellent, but the little buggers still feasted on my feet and ankles.



Several times a week I took the Mandala dogs for a long walk on the beach – all the way to the northern headland and back takes about an hour. I tried to time the walks for low tide so we’d have a wide band of flat, hard sand. The downside is the vehicles that ride the beach, many of them trucks loading up with sand and damaging the coastline. One smallish truck had both windows open and the driver stopped in his tracks, curling up in the middle of the seat in fear as the dogs barked and jumped alongside his truck. I chuckled to myself as I explained to him that the dogs are trained to terrorize anyone who rapes the land. He assured me that he had a permit from the municipality to remove sand. I told him I wanted to see it and he just looked sheepish. I have, however, learned that the municipal government is granting permission for sand removal – so short-sighted! Shooting themselves in the foot even as they are trying to develop tourism!



The dogs love to run and splash in the surf chasing birds even as they lift off with the crashing waves. On the shore dozen of turkey vultures are picking at the carcass of a sea turtle, its innards spread along the sand, gooey strings of flesh hanging off the shell. Fortunately the dogs are more interested in the big birds than in the rotting flesh. They run into the mass of big black birds who take off in unison, the flapping sound of their huge wings making a musical rumble.



As the tide is going out I watch the dogs’ big paws make disappearing prints in the damp sand. Keeping up a brisk pace I began to sweat as I look out to the vast nothingness and everythingness of the mighty Pacific Ocean. I wear two leashes lashed around my waist – in case a small dog appears on the horizon. If I manage to leash the alpha male & female, the pack mentality is broken and the unsuspecting pup is saved from possible attack.



Not a lot of shells on this stretch of beach – a few interesting stones. I’m drawn to a pinkish spot in the distance thinking it might be a bit of the prized spondylus shell, but more often than not as I draw near I see that it’s nothing but the top of a red onion…amazing how it survived the sea and washed to shore. One day I found a tiny fish (the size of my thumb) in the garden near the dogs’ beds. I wondered why they hadn’t eaten it, and then I realized that they hadn’t brought it there… it must have fallen from a bird’s beak.



As always, the best part of my job is meeting all of the interesting people who find their way to Mandala. Cute British honeymooners who asked to borrow the Scrabble set. “This may be the end of our marriage,” he quipped. “Well, it’s been a good week!” she chuckled. Families enjoying each other’s company, playing games & laughing. One little girl exclaimed, “This place is magic!”



A group of hard-core French birders set off for a walk along the coast lugging their huge cameras with four- foot long telescopic lenses. They came back and told me excitedly about the turkey vultures they saw picking at a dead dog. I guess that’s something they don’t see every day in France. A dozen Dutch tourists travelling with a guide celebrated their last night together with joyful energetic singing, complete with gestures and synchronized movements. A fun cultural experience for all of us onlookers!



One morning a crazy evangelist lady started preaching at the foot of the stairs by the restaurant terrace. My back was turned, so at first I thought it was some guests blessing their food…but as the voice became more strident I turned and started down the stairs and gently asked her to leave, at which point she her rant turned away from Jesus and into an attack – “You come here and invade our country, steal our babies...,” at which point I walked towards her with all 5 dogs in tow and threatened to call the police. All of the breakfasting guests were staring in stunned amazement. As she finally walked away I tried to lighten the mood by saying, “I never stole any babies!”



As in the past, one of my favorite parts of this job is using my language skills to help people enjoy their vacations. I love the mental challenge of switching from one language to another. One day I found myself answering an email in English, pausing to help a German guest while giving instructions to a waiter in Spanish. French tourists are always surprised and pleased when I speak to them in their language. We’ve had a lot of French Canadians recently as well. A Malaysian couple came to stay and it was fun to dust off my Malay and practice speaking with them. Although they both spoke English well, they were very patient and helpful as I dug up words and expressions I hadn’t used in over 15 years!



Occasionally Ecuadorian guests will pay their bill with a personal check, and I’ve learned that a trip to the bank is a major excursion. Step in that door and you’re about to lose at least an hour of your life. (At least it’s air conditioned inside). One time I stood in line for over 40 minutes becoming frustrated that it was barely moving forward. People kept cutting in (ostensibly someone had been saving their place – I saw a woman leave her tiny 4 year old in line while she went off to run other errands!) I watched impatiently as women holding a small child were permitted to jump right to the front of the handicapped/pregnant lady window.



When I finally gave up and decided to leave, I stopped to chat with the guard who was deciding who got to move ahead in line. I commented that it seemed to me that I’d seen several women holding the same baby, and asked how much it might cost me to “rent-a-baby” so I could move into the fast line! My sarcastic inquiry brought forth a chuckle from several people in the slow line. Later that morning I went to visit a friend who said he’d gone to the bank the previous afternoon during the big soccer match and there was absolutely no one in line. Everyone was in front of a TV watching while Ecuador qualified for the World Cup in Brazil.



Twice during my stay I was twice able to take excursions down the coast. I had a wonderful morning with my adopted family, visiting little fishing villages along the way. We stopped for passion fruit pie at my favorite pastry shop, Delicias de Benito strolling along the modest ‘boardwalk’ in La Entrada. We visited a tiny, hidden fishing village called ‘La Rinconada’ (meaning corner or nook). We visited the famous Sanctuary of Olon, nestled high up on a rocky escarpment overlooking an 8-mile stretch of broad white sand beach. The sanctuary’s underground chapel is where a statue of the Virgin Mary is purported to have cried tears of blood.



I also drove down the coast with friends from the mountains who had come to stay at Mandala. This time we went as far as Montanita, the hippie dippy surf town; lots of tie dye and dredlocks. We stopped to visit my friend Pepe, a jovial fellow (who’s going blind from diabetes). When you ask him how he’s doing, his emphatic response is ‘de pelicula!’ (like in the movies!), or perhaps he’ll tell you that all is ‘correcto, fino y elegante!’



Pepe owns a kind of general store that appears to have begun as a supplier of agricultural supplies (seed, fertilizer, insecticides, poultry feed), growing into a nursery (amazing plants, orchids & more), and also a livestock and small animal supply shop (an itinerant vet comes up one afternoon a week to see local pets). Pepe is quite an entrepreneur, so he began to oversee the design, manufacture and distribution of bamboo & cane furniture. From his upstairs showroom, I’ve bought a few hat racks over the years (one for myself and several for gifts). At some point Pepe began accepting goods in trade when folks couldn’t pay him, so he has now ended up with racks of second hand clothing (including a lot end of maternity bathing suits from Sears).



Awed by the shop’s phenomenal panoply of doodads, here’s a list of what I saw from where I stood waiting at the cluttered check-out table: old suitcases, kitchen gadgets, riding boots, dried mushrooms, tinned tuna, artisan cacao patties, dog food in 25kilo bags, cat food in 4 oz portions, canola oil, high heel shoes, tempera paint, Christmas ornaments, pesticide sprayers, saddles, lacy lingerie, straw hats, incense burners, toothpaste, pet medicines & injection, stinky chicken feed (made from ground up fish bone meal), jars of olives, porcelain plates and mugs, Santa Claus sticker albums, shot glasses, motor oil, swatch watches, sharp sickle saw tree-branch trimmers, motor oil, stuffed animals, super glue (here known as brujita – little witch), knock-off Crocs (rubber clogs), string/rope/jute/wire, dog collars and leashes, frou frou little girls’ headbands, chapstick, coconut fiber lampshades, sunglasses, batteries, hammocks, sunscreen, fluorescent light bulbs, hot wheels cars, sweet’n’low, deodorant, purple anti-maggot spray for pets, hacky sacks, bamboo bedframe with night-tables, pharmaceutical rep leather fold-out bag, wind-chimes, business card holders, glassware, reading glasses, macramé plant hangers, toenail clippers, pills and capsules, creams and lotions; it just goes on and on!!

Thanks for reading this entry’s musings and ramblings! Soon I’m off to the US for a month of visits to family and friends on both coasts. Perhaps my next blog entry will be written from North America!

---

Photos

Morning Sun on Snowcaps
Glowing brilliance of Chimborazo and Carihuarazo (photo taken near Ambato before 7:00 am!)

The Panamerican Hwy
Rounding a curve on the highway -- this view took my breath away.

The Ilinizas
Spiky snowcaps as view from the ascent to a high Andean pass.

Warning Signs
A picture says it all! Risk of head on crash on this sharp curve!

Bell Pepper Transport
The one food I do not eat! Driver didn't understand why I wasn't passing - busy taking photo (this one's for you Claire!)

Heliconia
My all-time favorite flowers, found in many regions of the country. Makes me think of watercolors.

At Rio Muchacho Farm
Perla was rescued after a previous owner cropped her ears with a machete. Here she poses with the bicycle powered coffee grinders.

Boby & Friend
The Huacalaca bird makes just that sound...huacalaca! Boby is looking up at him (hoping he doesn't poop?)

bananahammock
Vendor hanging out in the back of the banana truck, chatting on his cell phone.

Mandala Dogs...
...in their elegant new wicker beds. Clockwise from L they are: Julieta, Lalo, Carbon, Xanga & Bruna

Is it dinnertime yet?
Bruna & Xanga hang out in the doorway, expectantly watching everything that emerges from the kitchen.

Carbon (aka Car Bone)
Hanging off the edge of his bed. Huge Great Dane -- just his head is as large as a small dog!

Family Foto in Olon
My beloved adopted family (all women + brother Alex) Dad stayed home to enjoy the peace with the gals all away!

Descent to Rinconada
Tucked away in a nook of the coastline, La Rinconada has stunning views on the way down.

Fixing Fishing Nets
In La Rinconada a dozen families live from the sea. Their nets are their livelihoods.

Swinging Singles
Ximena, Juliana & Daniela (adopted sisters/nieces) pose prettily in La Entrada.

Church Entrance
Visitors to the Santuario de Olon are greeted with these restrictions.

In the Breeze...
Beachfront clothesline in La Entrada.

Naptime in La Entrada
Man & his best friend share an afternoon snooze under a thatched cabanita.

Whale Tails
Ugly statues in La Entrada, at least they're useful for shading the dogs!

Clothesline in La Rinconada
Lazy dogs and baby clothes!

Comments

[Les]

Visit us in Albuquerque!
Can you? Would you?

[Jessie]

Took the trip with you . . .
and thoroughly enjoyed every mile! Love your intrepid spirit, Jill. Look forward to seeing you in the new year.

[joe]

YOU saw Pepe again!! I\'m envious. He is my buddy!! No pictures of him or his \"Agrolon\" variety shop? Good blog!

[Jamie Rein]

Love Your Writing
Hi Jill, I always love reading your blog because it dusts off memories of our beloved Ecuador. Passion fruit pie !?! YUM! I am envious. Xanga the dog looks as if he/she has some Catahoula blood. The Catahoula, or the Louisiana Leopard Dog, is the state dog of Louisiana. Love, Peace and Happy Trails, Jamie Jet

[Maria]

Another great post!
Thanks for the well written update on your adventures! Have a great trip to the US, looking forward to that entry!

[Joyce Barton]

Love Your Life
I look forward to reading your blog. You are such an adventuress. Knowing the language helps so much. We are in Massachusetts trying to get out of our own way to sell all the stuff and move to Cuenca, it is monumental. We have visited twice and just can't wait to get there. You have a wonderful life, meeting so many interesting people. I was involved with Hearts of Gold in Cuenca and gave out shoes to students last summer. My husband and I met many people in Cuenca and were quite busy going to many functions. Perhaps one day we will meet you when checking in to one of the hotels you manage who knows! Best wishes to you living your wonderful life.

[Kathy]

Clothing Optional??
I didn't see the caption saying it was a church entrance and thought it was at a beach, so I thought the sign meant no swimming suits allowed, as in nude bathing only - LOL. And with the "no food" sign below it, for a second I thought it meant only trim folks were allowed on the beach, like "you who eat this kind of junk food aren't allowed!" Yes, I have an active imagination.