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So the final instalment of my 7 months in South America starts here and over the past 2 weeks I have endured many quizzical conversations from bemused Ecuadorians as to why I, a 36 year old lady am travelling “alone” and “single”. It seems that off The Gringo Trail I am a bit of an oddity to be, at my age, both “solita” and “soltera”. I’ve taken it upon myself to invent a Venezuelan boyfriend so I seem less of a social outcast in these parts…..
Aside from the emotional battering by Ecuadorians obsessed with husbands and babies (like I need reminding!) , I have had a fantastic fortnight and my time here has made me fall even further in love with the country. Yeah, I know – I’ve been waxing lyrical about Venezuela and Colombia and they both maintain special places in my travel-heart but there is something about Ecuador that is just (as the French say) ‘à point’. It’s a small and compact country but you couldn’t ask for more topographical variety – from active volcanoes and towering Andean peaks to jungle rainforest to golden beaches.
I am currently sitting on the beach in the ramshackle fishing town of Puerto Lopez. The sea air is blowing my hair out of my face and the sun is gradually descending over its oceanic horizon. However, it’s been a grey day here on the coast so I borrowed a mountain bike from the delightful hostale Im staying at (www.hosteltrail.com/hosteriaitapoa) and went for a spin. Actually, I went for an Easter Island-esq labia lacerating, butt crunching journey of 30kms round trip to the archaeological significant indigenous settlemen of Agua Blanca, just inland in Ecuador’s only coastal national park. My poor memory is a good thing sometimes as I had clearly forgotten how bloody uncomfortable mountain bikes are….saddles designed to practically impale you and with handlebars that you seem to be forced to hang over so your back needs a good therapeutic pummelling after a few hours. Give me a decent ‘sit up and beg’ bike any day…. That said, I doubt I would have made it into the ‘dry tropical forest’ as it is known as the roads were some of South America’s finest….. Potholed and gravelly. However, it’s been a fun day and as well hewn fishermen take their afternoon stroll on the beach after unloading their catches, it’s time for me to write up the past fortnight since arriving back in Quito on the 17th May.
Flying back in to Ecuador from Colombia felt a bit like coming home…. Recognising the squares, the shops, the buildings of Quito was all rather comforting but with only a short time to get to parts of the country not yet reached, I only spent a day in the Old City doing necessary prep for my journey South and upwards into the formidable Cordillera of the Ecuadorian Andes.
Quito now has a new bus station, a good 30 mins away on the packed trolleybus but I negotiated it and took a coach 2 hrs away to the town of Latacunga – my base for doing both the gruelling but spectacular Quilitoa Loop and exploration of the active volcano Cotopaxi, in the national park of the same name. Having reserved a bed at Café Tiana Hostale in town, I had my own room including a delich continental breakfast for $10 and was fairly easily persuaded to attempt the 200kms round trip on the Loop on my own terms as opposed to booking a ‘tour’.
The following day as dawn broke and the morning air was shaking off its chilly embrace, carrying the bare essentials for 3 days of hiking, and horse riding I got on a bus to the nearby village of Sasquisilí (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saquisil%C3%AD). Here, every Thursday the small Andean town erupts into an open air market with all 8 plazas filled with villagers from communities all over the region plying their wares….. Trilby hatted indigenous women with liquorice plaits down their backs hawked live guinea pigs (cuy) and chickens for the pot. Mestizo men examined their wares, scrutinizing the quality of the meat. Vendors sat around on giant bales of alfalfa with diminutive elderlies skittering around, burdened down with produce on their backs. There is something about this race that defies belief….. small in stature , they are exceptionally strong and whether they are male or female, are able to carry huge loads for long distances.
Here I am moaning about my sore bottom from cycling for a few hours and these folks just get on with it and endure. You never see someone ambling along here, simply shuffling to their destination. A mestizo’s walk always has determined purpose, however aged and kyphotic their backs may be and at times it can be hard to keep up with them at these high altitudes. I’m huffing and wheezing like a 40 a day asthmatic and these guys zip along hunched and resourceful.
Everything imaginable was on sale at Sasquisilí – from random doors and bedframes to freshly made charcoal, squealing pigs pierced the mountain air, braying sheep, vast mounds of spring onions, huge bagged fresh carrots and sweet corn. Artisanal goodies in the shape of knitted ponchos and drapes, woven baskets, blocks of palm sugar, puppies, and a plethora of knives…..
I was in photographic heaven snapping madly away. In places like that where I am so taken with the atmosphere, so overwhelmed by the energy of the place…I feel utterly compelled to try and capture that through the lens of a camera. It’s very different photographing people and scenes such as Sasquisilí compared with say landscapes or plants and animals as I’m very conscious of not intruding into the individual’s personal space or spirit. I don’t want to appear like the gringo voyeur yet I fear it’s hard not to.
Sated on chunks of fresh sugarcane, I found my onward bus to Isinlivi – a tiny settlement nearly 3000m high in the Andes. The bus bumped its way along the sole road ambling through tiny villages that seemed to literally cling to the side of the mountain and suddenly I felt very far removed from The Gringo Trail. It’s strange as The Quilitoa Loop is considered one of Ecuador’s highlights and yet for the night’s I stayed in both Isinlivi and the following day in Chugchilan I was one of only 3 or 4 people in the hostales. The Loop is well off the beaten track and I just loved it.
Hiking at altitude is tough going and for two days I invested in riding from one village to another which was a delight. Just me, my horse and my Quechan (and thankfully also Spanish speaking) farmer guide ….journeying through countryside sculpted by glaciers. Paths so steep at times, I had to dismount and let my horse find its footing. My god, those poor animals with Heffalump Hannah on top worked for their hay. The paths were treacherous and at times, cantering along so close to the edge of a gaping ravine made me really wonder whether my time might be up.
Lupins and orchids dazzled in the meadows and wherever one looked you could see Andean farmers cultivating the incline of the land with sweet corn, yucca and other hardy plants able to cope with extreme temperatures and high altitude. The first night in Isinlivi was at a fantastic hostal called LLulu Llama (http://www.llullullama.com/ ) complete with wood burning stove that warmed the ancient adobe building , delicious chef who whipped up delicious food, an overly friendly cat, and the most fantastic toilet I’ve ever been in. A composting bog surrounded by geraniums and with a view out into the valley to make you feel humble as you sat and moved your bowels. In fact quite an inspirational ablutionary facility…
A day’s riding with moustachioed Oswaldo took me up and down the valley, across icy rivers and eventually higher in altitude to the remote village of Chugchilan where as soon as the sun went down, the temperature dropped and I had to pull out my goose-down sleeping bag and huddle in it with layers of clothes beneath layers of blankets. It was a cold night…..
The second day of riding was even more glorious. Oswaldo had returned to Isinlivi and I had the services of Bernardo. Continuously chatting in Spanish to me, i adored the journey apart from his amorous attentions…I lost count of how many times he called me “guapa” or “muy lindo chica”. The Venezuelan boyfriend came in very handy at that point!
Arriving in Quilotoa at 4000 metres, I literally wobbled off my horse and staggered like John Wayne into my chilly room and fell asleep. I was exhausted. We rode hard on that second day and due to a slight laundry miscalculation I only had my bikini as ‘boob support’. Having left washing in Latacunga, I had made do with what I could to get me round the Loop. I hadn’t taken into account the need for a more supportive’ brassiere’ when riding! By the end of the day I was begging Bernardo to let us just walk the horses. Any more trotting and I felt like my breasts would be shaken off my body. It was agony – I can assure you no amount of clutching one’s boobs would stop the pain as I bounced on top of my ride. Bloody uncomfortable……
Fog descended on Quilotoa that night and the electricity cut out plunging the village into a miasmic gloom. With the sole wood burner only giving out enough heat to keep the dog warm, I retreated to my bed for the night as hailstones battered the roof and the mist blew past the window like low-hanging cloud. I awoke stiff and uncomfortable the following morning but to bright blue skies – perfect for hiking down to the volcanic crater lake of Quilotoa. A relatively straightforward descent of 400metres into the caldera took little time apart from watching one’s feet and stopping to admire the incredible views of the aquamarine waters sparkling in this elliptical cavernous basin - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quilotoa
The ascent was just a little bit harder and took about 2hrs stopping to admire the views but realistically stopping to catch one’s breath. Walking back up was strenuous and taxing and made me seriously doubt my ability to climb to the summit of Cotopaxi at 5897metres. Here I was wheezing and huffing like a 40 a day asthmatic….i decided to reserve judgement and a decision until I was back in Latacunga.
Returning later to Latacunga that afternoon, I felt an enormous sense of satisfaction having completed the Quilotoa Loop. It was truly beautiful and a delight to go it alone. So much so, I decided that I would make my way to Cotopaxi the following day alone. Im getting so anti-Tour now it’s hilarious. The thrill of negotiating everything yourself is addictive! The guys back at the Hostale were really helpful and friendly giving me directions on what bus to get to where etc and I eventually made it to the entrance of Cotopaxi NP and haggled with a camioneta (4x4) driver for a fee to take me round the park, up to the parking area and wait whilst I negotiated the volcanic scree path up to the refugio at over 4800m.
Cotopaxi volcano is an impressive site – its snow-capped cone dominating the barren landscape for miles around. A seemingly frozen wasteland of a national park…this place couldn’t be further removed from the jungle or the coast if it tried. Unrelenting winds sweep across the slope of the volcano blowing sand, grit and volcanic dust into your face as you negotiate the path. I had already decided I didn’t have either the time or the inclination to attempt the 2 day summit hike – I honestly think I would have had a coronary. With only a few days left before I had to get back to Quito, I wanted to get to the coast for some sunshine and sea and surfing (well, watching the surfers! ;-)) so crampons and ice-picks were not on that agenda. With the weather so changeable at the moment, a summit ascent was looking unlikely on the days I was still there so hiking to the refugio at 4800m sufficed. That in itself was one hell of a walk. I know my fitness has deteriorated whilst travelling – sitting on a Truck half the time doesn’t do anybody’s waistline any good but poor fitness at these kinds of altitudes made for a very challenging stretch of volcano.
Cotopaxi’s last eruption was I think 19o4 and many locals head to the park for day trips so its pretty safe. However, alone on the scree slope – with the cloud swirling around me as I battled the wind and the snow in my face I did question my sanity. Talk about push myself – I have muchos respect for the climbing efforts of both Kate & Matt on their South American adventures as well as my bro who managed Kilimanjaro a few years ago. I was pleased to make it to the snowline and as I got higher, the weather improved, the clouds parted to reveal azure skies and suddenly I felt like I was on top of the world.
From crater lakes, Andean mountains, volcanoes and Latacunga itself, I took a bus westwards overnight to the fishing town of Puerto Lopez on the Ecuadorian coast and on the fringes of Machacilla National Park. I love being back by the sea again and am gorging myself on cerviche (raw marinated fish) and grilled seafood. For $10 a night incl breakfast I have my own little wooden cabinas complete with princess style double bed mosquito net. Im a few steps from the beach and yesterday I rode out on a boat to Isla del Plata where it was like stepping back into the Galapagos. Blue footed boobies waddled on the paths whilst giant frigate birds with their inflated scarlet chests called and cackled for their mates. An avian delight. The only thing that would make it slightly better would be if that fictitious Venezuelan boyfriend was actually here. But he’s not and so I am absolutely loving it by myself.
Tomorrow, im hoping the sun will make an appearance and I’m going to head to the beach for my final day here – I think I will indulge in a moto-taxi (like motorised rickshaws) rather than borrow Raoul’s mountain bike again. I don’t think my derriere or va jj can take any more! Overnight, Im taking a bus back to Quito where im going to party with an old friend from Ecuador who I met in the Jungle in 2009 as well as a new friend – the lovely Michelle whose path I repeatedly came across in Brazil as she was on a Dragoman trip on the same truck I was on back in 2009.
Being “solita and solterna” in Ecuador is not a problem at all……!
Han x
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A fascinating account of life in Ecuador
Well done Han! This blog gives a wonderful insight of what life is like in Ecuador and the accompanying photographs are an additional treat. Somebody should immediately offer you a job as a travel writer!