It is Dec 25th, 18h03 and we are sitting in a tent on the shores of the Mojanda
Lagoon, under pouring rain and driving wind, after having hiked 3h30 towards
the summit and back, on Fuya Fuya in Ecuador. Such a Christmas we have never
had. But, let’s wind back the clock.
December 22. We were up at 2h30 (-14°C and mild for Winnipeg), and very excited
about the next five weeks – 14 days trekking in the Andes with Adventure Peaks,
5 days in the Galapagos with
Peregrine Adventures and 12 days mountain biking (Volcanes y Playas – Volcanoes
and Beaches) with Saddle Skedaddle. This was sure to be our most varied and
challenging adventure yet! We were not disappointed.
The flights from
Winnipeg to Quito went smoothly with easy connections. We arrived right on time
and were met by a representative from Adventure Peaks who took us to the
joining hotel, Hotel San Francisco de Quito – a comfortable and very convenient
place in old Quito.
December 23.
We spent the
morning and better part of the afternoon strolling around the old town. Here,
we were to have the first of many delightful experiences in Ecuador – a
Christmas Parade, unlike any we were familiar with back home (no Ho, Ho, Hoing
Santa Claus, no plastic Rudolf, no blaring songs of Christmas mirth, no
commercial Joy to the World). Instead we were swept away by exuberant dancers
dressed in crisp white with bright, flowing satin streamers in their hair and
their hands, a group of beaming women in vibrant skirts and shawls, each one
leading a lama that was saddled with tiny offerings, a group of musicians
providing music as bright and alive as the day itself, towards the head of the
parade a procession of men and women awash in brilliant yellow, cadmium red,
cobalt blue, deep purple and bright green carried burning candles surrounded in
bunches of roses. Rose petals were cast to the pavement as if to make a floral
pathway. In contrast, the head of the parade moved in quiet solemnity – the
Virgin Mary, an angel of the lord the three Wise Men, a group of angels. Each
individual poised, never glancing aside nor moving head nor hand with each
measured step. Men, women and children, onlookers of all ages joined the
processional, or perhaps more accurately, were absorbed into it.
We met our
guide, Juan Carlos Silva, later that evening. Dinner was in a rooftop
restaurant, the chill of the evening melted away by blazing patio heaters, with
views of old Qutio and the giant statue of the madonna, illuminated in electric
red, green and blue, that looked down on the town from its perch on El
Panecillo hill. Above the hill, fireworks split the night. Could there have
been a more fitting end to a stunning first day?
December 24.
We had a late
start this morning. We met Juan Carlos at 10h00 for a two hour guided tour of
the old town where we were fortunate to watch the changing of the guard at the
president’s palace.
We checked out
of our hotel at noon, anxious to begin our treks in the mountains. This was
when we met our assistant guide, Roberto, whose warmth easily transcended his
abilities in English. We immediately liked this man, and soon came to respect
him for how he overcame the loss of his right arm. Needless to say, it was
quite an experience as he drove up and down, rough, winding, and narrow
mountain roads. With great aplomb he would let go of the steering wheel, then
bring his left hand down and across to shift gears before bringing it back up to
take hold of the steering wheel. The whole act was done in a smooth and easy
sweep. From time to time the keys would be rattled out of the ignition switch,
fortunately he made no attempt to pick them up.
Our first stop
on the way was to Intinan Museum, where through a series of simple
demonstrations the effects of gravity were made clear on the equator. We found a
pretty good video of the same challenges we tried here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZBVntSA-qoQ
Shortly later we arrived at a beautiful Spanish style hotel in Otavalo where we would spend the night before continuing on to the Mojanda Lagoon and Fuya Fuya.
That evening
Juan Carlos took us to a restaurant for a traditional Ecuadorian Christmas
dinner skewers, soup, turkey and bbq pork and Tamales De Navidad. These were
nothing at all like the tamales one associates with Mexico. Tamales De Navidad
are a sweet and delicious concoction of chicken and vegetables in a corn paste
and steamed in fig leaf, a truly wonderful surprise!
December 25
We were up at
7h00 for breakfast at 8h00 that included our first surprise of the day, Tree
Tomato juice – delicious, tangy and slightly sweet.
Shortly after
breakfast Juan Carlos and Roberto went grocery shopping for our first night of
camping. With Roberto confidently behind the wheel, we arrived at Mojanda Lagoon
just before noon. Time to set up the tents (no small feat for us as we were
complete novices). We left Roberto and Juan Carlos alone to set up the cook tent
whilst we busied ourselves figuring out ours.
For lunch (our
guides were good cooks) it was quinoa soup, buns, guacamole, tuna salad with
pasta, mango juice and taco chips.
And then we were
off on our first hike – tough going, for us at least, from the flats of
Manitoba. The grassy trail was long and consistently steep (steeper for longer
periods I thought than the Inca Trail we hiked two years prior). We found it hard to catch our breaths
as we began to ascend, glancing down at my heart rate monitor I was surprised
to see that in thinning air 70% of maximum heart rate felt like a heart
bursting 80%+.
Whenever one
feels that one is doing something out of the ordinary or remarkable or is
beginning to develop an overblown sense of self, something happens to bring one
back to reality. On the way up Fuya Fuya that sobering moment came in the
extraordinary sight of a little girl, who, descending out of the clouds and
smiling all unto herself, merrily skipped down the flank of the mountain we
were gasping to climb. Secured by a rope around her tummy with her father
holding the other end in his hand she was queen of the mountain! Her mom was
only moments behind!
Continuing on, the temperature dropped from 17° to 8° C, heavy clouds rolled in, the wind
picked up to 30km/h, rain began to fall, first as drizzle and then as light
hail, thunder sounded louder. Looking back down, the Mojanda Lagoon had
disappeared from sight. How was Roberto doing down there?
Further still,
we arrived at a post where someone with a sense of humour had pasted a sticker
that read “Monte Dans l’Bus” – get on the bus. The thunder was now accompanied
with flashes of lightning. Juan Carlos let us know it was time to go back, the
final ten minutes was rock and far too dangerous. Going down was a lot easier,
2h30 up….1h00 down!
Christmas
dinner, under driving rain in a badly leaky cook tent, was lukewarm instant
mashed potatoes, pan-fried chicken breast and a single slice of tomato. Dessert
was hot strawberry compote – a treat. We retired to our tent at 20h00 laughing
out loud about the day, our sodden clothing, the hard ground and our new tight
sleeping bags. When we first arrived Juan Carlos wondered if we might be
troubled by the lapping of the lake on the shore. Under the circumstances we found
this ludicrously funny as the rain hammered down and the wind ripped at the
tent. Is this like the winds at Everest Base Camp? We, mighty mountaineers,
went to sleep on that question.
December 26
Up at 6h00, sky
clear, 8.5°C, wind light out of the NE.
The cook tent,
pitched in a low spot, was swamped over night. Juan Carlos and Roberto who
slept there must have had the most miserable night in their lives!
We had breakfast
on the road in front of the truck (fruit salad, cheese, ham, yogurt, coffee
and scrambled eggs – Huevos Robertos we called them, a name that made our guides
laugh, a name that was to stick from then on.
As our guides
patiently dried things out we spent a pleasant time walking along the shore of
the lagoon.
It was decided that the day's hike down to the Otavalo would be too hard and so the plan was changed. With Juan Carlos behind the wheel we made off to Condor Park (quite interesting) and Peguche Water Falls – stunningly beautiful.
And then it was
on to our next stay for the night, Mirador Cabans on the Cuicocha Lagoon and a
gorgeous sunset!
December 27
Up at 7h00, mix
of sun and cloud, 17°C wind calm.
Roberto took
over as our guide around Cuicohca Lagoon.
As well as the
stunning views the hike was animated by Roberto’s descriptions of the flowers,
bushes and trees along the path. To us, his knowledge of the medicinal uses of
plants was encyclopaedic – the challenge of filling in the gaps when his
English began to fail made the experience all the more involving. He kept an easy and steady pace
bringing us around the often challenging trail (3,100m - 3,400m) in just under 4 hours (1 hour less than
indicated for the walk on the sign at the entrance to the trail). Heidie was
proud.
With Juan Carlos
behind the wheel we were off to La Esperenza and Casa Aida our new home for the
night. This I wrongly thought, was the worst road ever – the road from hell;
narrow, with chasm like ruts, it zigzagged mercilessly through hard tight
bends. Inside the truck we rebounded like rubber balls. Each time the keys fell
out of the ignition Juan Carlos searched with his right hand to try and pick
them up and stick them back in.
Mercifully we
stopped for a lunch; first course - banana in a chocolate syrup with watermelon
pieces on the side, second course - tuna salad served in a sliced avocado,
third course trout - salad and potatoes, dessert – peaches. Well, we had done a
lot of walking after all.
Arriving at Casa
Aida at around 18h00 we skipped dinner electing instead for a hot shower and
early bed – we had to be up early the next morning to leave by 6h30 for our
hike up Imbabura.
December 28
Up at 5h00 we
scrambled to repack by 5h30 and breakfast. At breakfast we met the owner of
Casa Aida, Aida Buitrón a charming, soft-spoken, kind-hearted, utterly
disarming woman with a story like a fable.
Her hostel had
humble beginnings. She explained that in the seventies although she was poor
she took interest and care of who she described as hippies (unwanted and
uncared for any where else) living in tents in the field across the street. She
took them into the yard behind her home. They immediately called this place and
the food she prepared paradise and said she should open a hostel. Because she
had no money they went around other hostels, giving out hand made cards, telling
others to come to Aida’s. They collected $7,000 from which Aida began to
expand.
Interesting
point, the reason the ‘hippies’ came in the first place not only for the beauty
of the place but also for the magic mushrooms that grew there.
From such beginnings she has gained a considerable renown
with people such as Bob Dylan coming to stay with her. She is about to write a
book about her past.
At 76 years she beams with life.
For breakfast
she prepared a fruit plate – banana, pineapple and melon, strong hot coffee and
a wheat pancake covered in her raspberry jam. And with her gentle, encouraging
words, as though she were the spirit of the mountain, she wished us well.
We left on time,
spending another 30 minutes in the truck down the road from hell.
The hike began
just after 7h00 down a steep dirt path. Along the way, we caught up to another
group of trekkers who had begun even earlier. As it turned out they were from
Austria. I mentioned to one of them that it must be an advantage to come from a
place with mountains. He chuckled and said, no, in Austria, they don’t have
mountains like this.
We continued to
climb slowly and steadily passing 4,000 then 4,200 meters (13,770 feet). By the
time we reached 14,000 feet (after about 4 hours of walking) the temperature
had dropped to -0.1C, with wind gusts to 50km/h. The terrain had changed. Now
we were scrambling over rocks and boulders. At times it felt as if we could be blown off the stony ledge
we were climbing. The feeling was exhilarating as were buffeted by the winds,
the way ahead disappearing in the mist.
A little further
on Juan Carlos told us to stop. The man is a joy to watch. Quick and agile as a
mountain goat he disappeared up the slope A few minutes later he was back. He had
checked the route ahead. Vergals (a frosting of ice) would soon form on the
rocky path that continued to the summit. Time to turn back he said, it would be
too dangerous. This was disappointing. We were looking forward to getting to
the top. We were only an hour or 300 meters away.
The trip down
Imbabura took 3 hours. Then we transferred back down the road from hell to pick
up our duffle bags that were waiting for us at Casa Aida. After a final photo
and farewell, we were off on the ‘scenic route’ as Juan Carlos described it
(one more hour of the road from hell) to Quito. We arrived back at the Hotel
San Francisco de Quito for a quick shower and change of clothes before an early
dinner. At the end of a really tough day we were exhausted, and happy.
December 29
At 6h30 it was
already sunny and warm. The day’s schedule changed (one of the advantages of
being on a private tour as it turned out). Instead of leaving after breakfast
for Cotopaxi National Park we spent the morning and afternoon in old Quito. This
was a good thing as it gave us time to do the laundry (we had packed a bare
minimum of clothing and were running out of clean things to wear).
While the hotel
did our clothes Jaun Carlos took us on a tour of the Museo de la Cuidad (Museum
of the City) with the fascinating glimpse it provided into the past. For there
it was on to the Teleferico (cable car). Then it was lunch in new Quito
(Gringolandia as we heard it described) before picking up our gear and
rejoining Roberto at 16h00 for the drive to Cotopaxi.
On the way
Roberto stopped at his house in Boliche to drop off the camping equipment used
on Fuya Fuya – the plan had changed, we wouldn’t be needing it. Instead of
camping we would spend the next two nights in a rustic hut. No more wet tents,
good thing since the weather was turning for the worse.
The road to
Roberto’s house provided our next wonderful surprise. At one point the road was
blocked by a group of children in costumes and masks. They were stopping
traffic asking for money for the widows. This we learned was a tradition around
the time of New Years. Juan Carlos told of how he and his brother once got
$700.00 doing the same thing.
We arrived at
our lodgings quite late. Drizzle was beginning to fall. We ate in our jackets
and head lamps as the restaurant was dark and cold. Our hut was very basic – damp, drafty, no hot water, a
toilet that did not work and no heat. Still it had bunk beds upon which we
could roll out our sleeping bags against the damp. That night Heidie dreamed of
mice. As we said near the beginning of this blog, whenever you think you are
really extending yourself, or doing something special something comes along to
bring you back to reality. No matter how uncomfortable we were that night it
was nothing like what Juan Carlos was about to do.
During the
night, he received a call. A guide on the Cotopaxi glacier had become sick and
could not bring his group down. He geared up, headed after the party and
brought them down.
Just as we
arrived to begin our hike that morning he came strolling leisurely into view
from who knows where. Then with but a brief pause he turned and led us up. One
marvels at such commitment and strength. Clearly, mountain guides are a
closely-knit fraternity, there are but 45 of them – an extended brotherhood.
December 30th
With Juan Carlos
somewhere on Cotopaxi we were up at 7h00 to cloud, drizzle and 9°C. Roberto
arrived at 8h30 with a decoration on the front of his truck that made us smile.
He was in the spirit of New Years. He opened the kitchen and prepared the
breakfast he had brought with him, buns, cheese, bologna, yogurt with corn
flakes and of course Huevos Robertos!
After breakfast
it was a short drive with breath taking views to where we were to begin. By the
time we were ready to go the temperature had risen to 22°C under a clear sky.
The walk up to
the refuge was exhilarating, indeed we found this much easier going than
Imbabura. At one point the wind gusted to 63km/h. As we climbed on, the
temperature continued to drop, the hot chocolate we had at the refuge was more
than welcome! From there the climb to the glacier was on a steep loose pebble
path. Then voilà, we were there at 4,900 meters (16,000 feet) – higher than
Mont Blanc. For us, this was amazing!
On the way back
to the refuge a young woman from the Netherlands caught up to us. Her energy
and sense of humour was infectious. She had left her boyfriend, complaining
that it was too hard to go on, at the refuge. We happily shared stories of our
travels and the things we had accomplished. It is wonderful to come across
people from around the world and feel connected to them through a common
passion.
Looking down the
mountain we could see families, many with young children climbing up or down. Quality time, indeed!
Our return to
the hut included a walk down a canyon trail, with yet more stunning views and
another chance to stretch the legs.
We had a few
hours to wait in the cool dark restaurant before dinner. We made the best of
things with 2 Cokes and a couple of bags of chips as we sat around the
Christmas tree that someone made out of empty plastic pop bottles.
December 31
Up to drizzle at
6h30 after another uncomfortable night in the hut. Given how damp and smelly
our clothes had become, we were beginning to miss a shower! It had rained all
night. It was 8.9°C in the hut. The chill had seeped under our skin.
The first thing
that Juan Carlos let us know was that the plan for the day had to change. We
would not be going up Rumiñahui (Stone Face). The climb was steep and rock.
Freezing drizzle ruled it out - a disappointment that was soon to fade. Juan
Carlos and Roberto had something up their sleeves.
The first stop
of the day was Pucará Salitre a ruin and archaeological site from the time of
the Inca. The outline of Inca walls buried just beneath the surface of the
ground contrasted against a stark and rolling landscape strewn with massive
boulders hurled high and far from volcanic eruption, was truly remarkable. The
visit to the site was all the more interesting with Roberto sharing his
observations from his time as part of the original archaeological exploration.
Moving across
the landscape we came to the natural spring, in a rolling green oasis, that
eventually feeds Quito with its water.
“Instead of
moving on to the hotel in Insivili how would you like to spend New Years in
Boliche? Roberto has invited you
to stay at his house. Celebrations begin at 2:00 p.m in the town square. He
would be honoured if you would accept.”
And so with that
we were on the road to Roberto’s, stopped of course to give money to the
widows!
Boliche is a small, poor village with enormous heart.
Its sole industry is hand made concrete blocks. The labour is back breaking.
Behind each concrete block house, rows and rows of dull grey bricks are left to
dry in the sun, each one worth a mere 20 cents. By the look of things each
household produces its own blocks with men, women and children equally involved
in the task. In Canada we do not know such a life.
Celebrations took place in the town square (really
just a dirt field) with races and events rewarded with homemade prizes (scarves
for the bicycle skill event). There were the children’s races, a running race
for 75 year old men and another for 75 year old women, volleyball and soccer
games. Juan Carlos won a scarf for his cycling skill.
The whole community contributed something - $5 or $10
dollars to hire the musicians and singers, sweet corn drink, corn liquor, food,
candy….
The generosity of the villagers was touching, at every
turn someone offering a drink, or food, and always smiles and greetings that,
although we could not understand, touched us deeply. At one point Roberto’s
father took him aside and insisted that we be given goat meat stew. Roberto
brought out three chairs for us (places of honour).
At night there were the testimonials; teams of
villagers dressed in costumes (men dressed as women, or as demons and angels)
would dance, act out, and then tell the story of the past year. The grand prize
was $100. Heidie was pulled into one performance to dance with a man in a
fantastic demon costume and ritual mask.
Just before midnight we were announced as special
guests of Roberto from Canada. And then the fireworks began. The first set was
a life-sized, hand-made bull on a cart. Bamboo poles corralled the effigy, each
pole loaded with fireworks. With the demon proudly in the lead, several men,
unconcerned by the explosions and burning phosphorescent spray, pulled the cart
around the square. Wisely the crowd moved back!
The cool night air was infused with the pungent smell
of manure, warm corn liquor, roast pig, sweet grass and gunpowder. And then the
countdown to midnight and a wash of handshakes and hugs from all saying, Feliz
Años!
Such a New Years we will likely never experience
again! Such a place we will never forget.
January 1
2013
Up at 7:00
(14°C) we were ready to head by 8h00 for Insivili. Poor Roberto, our driver
this morning, was red eyed and suffering from too little sleep.
We arrived early
enough to find the town abandoned – every one was in church. After a short wait
the inn’s owner, Mirianne, brought out breakfast
(peach yogurt, a delicious flat bread fresh from her bakery, cheese, eggs and
coffee. This is her bright new place.
The reason that
we left Roberto’s house so early was to get an early start on what would have a
been a fairly long walk from the town of Insivili to Chugchilan. However, that
was not to be. Mirianne explained
that the route had been washed out because of heavy rains and was impassable.
Instead she
suggested walking in the green, rolling hills nearby. A two hour hike to about
3,400 meters. This we did, however at the top of one steep hill Roberto sat
down and wondered aloud why we were doing this. Apparently he was not just
suffering from lack of sleep! Juan Carlos said he usually ignores Roberto when
he says things like that, but not this time. The opportunity to tease him was
too much. It was mostly sunny and we at least were feeling good.
As it often
happened, another surprise came our way. This time it was meeting the owner of
the mountain, an old woman, who came striding down the path we were on. She
posed for the camera. Honestly we never thought we would meet the owner of a
mountain. She was a delight.
Returning to the
inn, Roberto began to recover. For lunch Mirianne presented chicken soup, pork,
potato salad and as a special treat, tree tomato juice.
Before setting
off in Roberto’s truck for Chugchilan, and enticed by the smell wafting from
behind the inn, we were invited into the bakery and rewarded by warm fresh
buns.
A quick
conversation between Roberto, Juan Carlos, Mirianne and the baker arranged a
detour along the way. With Juan Carlos in the bed of the truck and the two
ladies in the back we were off on the steepest dirt road yet to a tiny place
where New Year’s celebrations were in place. This included a ‘bull fight’ that
Juan Carlos bravely joined.
After about half and hour and a brief bit of dancing (Mirianne asked Al and he did!!!) we said goodbye to our hosts and were on our way.
The inn, Hostal Mama Hilda, that
night was a sight for sore eyes – like something one might find in Austria or
Switzerland. Better still there was a hot shower, our first one in about four
days.
January 2
A late start
this morning, breakfast at 8h00 departure on foot at 8h45, sunny and 20°C, a
day full of promise for good weather (it didn’t end up that way). Roberto now
fully recovered was our guide for this five and half hour hike down, along and
up the canyon from Chugchilan to Quilota.
The weather that
started so well began to deteriorate by 11h00. Over the next 4 hours spits of
rain became a steady drizzle, that turned to rain as the temperature dropped to
10°C. The weather notwithstanding, the scenery, very different from anything we
had seen before, was not to be missed.
By the time we
arrived at Quilotoa we were tired, wet and chilled to the bone. Unfortunately
the inn offered little comfort. With nothing hot to drink and no heat in the
rooms, we walked out in the rain to find a place where we bought Roberto and
ourselves tea.
After walking
back in the rain to the hotel we asked for help starting the wood stove in our
room (we are good at starting wood stoves as we rely on one back home, but not
this one). A young man brought a can of kerosene into the room, doused some
branches with it, waited a moment for the fire to start, then left. We laid out
our wet clothes certain that they soon would dry. We were wrong. The fire died
quickly. Again we asked for help. The young man repeated the process. The fire
died again. We gave up! At least the shower was hot.
At dinner that
night Juan Carlos gave us an option, leave on foot the next morning to Tigua (6
hours) or drive to the Saquisili Indian Market. Heidie was in favour of
Saquisili, Al was torn. Since we could not agree, we left it up to our guide.
The market it would be. As it turned out, he made the right call, the next day
began in rain.
January 3
We were up at
6h00 for a very early start. Breakfast would have to wait. We arrived at this
bustling market already very busy by 8 a.m. We have been in outdoor markets in
Thailand, Indonesia, India and Korea, but nothing at all like this. At times
the sights, colours, sounds and smells overwhelmed the senses. Heidie took full
advantage of the opportunity to shop for gifts to take back home.
After breakfast
we were off to La Victoria and a potter who showed us around her shop and
outdoor kiln.
Then we were on
to Tigua and the Galeria De Los Pinturas De Tigua. One of the artists agree to pose for a picture.
Our final stay
was at La Posada a converted farm, surely the most beautiful place we stayed.
Our hosts, husband, wife and son spoke with such pride that it was as if they
were greeting guest for the first time. The farm (still working to some degree
– one could try milking a cow) had been in their family for four generations.
Running it as a guesthouse was their way of surviving in a changed economy.
It is funny how
things come full circle. That evening we met up with a group of three people
who we met on our first day at our hotel in Quito. They were serious mountain
climbers in Ecuador with Adventure Peaks to hone or develop new skills. One of
them was Bob Kerr, a Prospective 7 Summitteer (Everest 2013 Expedition).
Although we had not accomplished their feats, we had in part shared in their
experience, at least to some degree.
January 4
Our last day,
and just enough time for a hair cut in Latacunga before the drive back to
Quito.
Looking back on the last ten days we are left with not only a great sense of satisfaction about what we had seen and done, but also enormous respect and admiration for the people we met along the way.
