Chili con carne

(Saturday-Monday, 1-3 August 2009)

Google map: http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=pt-PT&geocode=&q=cuenca+ecuador&sll=-2.918868,-79.098644&sspn=0.16801,0.350189&ie=UTF8&ll=-2.893667,-79.021397&spn=2.687972,5.603027&z=8

There are strange “urban myths” that become associated with countries, places. Take “chili con carne”, for instance. Typical Mexican food, right? Well, did you know it’s virtually impossible to find it in Mexico (so have fellow travellers told me!) because… Mexicans don’t actually eat it, traditionally?!

I guess it’s a bit like the association of barbequed chicken with Portugal… How often have I heard something along the lines of “Oh, you’re from Portugal? I’m so into your traditional food – I just love your BBQ chicken!”. Since when did BBQ chicken become a traditional Portuguese dish?! OK, we may order it on Sundays when no-one in the house has patience to cook… But, that’s it!

Thanks to fast-food like Nando’s – a very popular BBQ restaurant chain in the UK, owned by a Portuguese emigrant in South Africa, that advertises it as “traditional Portuguese food” side-by-side with a “galo de Barcelos” – our country has been associated in the British mind with the damn food. Apparently there is another so-called traditional Portuguese BBQ restaurant chain in Australia. Now, who will convince the British and the Australians otherwise?

I think a similar myth has been created around Cuenca, a “magical city rich in colonial architectural heritage”. One that rivals the beauty of Quito’s old quarter, they say.

Bollocks! Quito's old quarter is magical; Cuenca is... just not special! Just a few churches and less than a hand-full of genuinely interesting villas, surrounded by the normally dull and uncharacteristic constructions of the 20th century. The colonial-to-modern buildings ratio in the “historical centre” so low that I had to check several times in the map (and ask around) if I was actually visiting the right areas of Cuenca.

But now go convince people about it... I think it’d be easier to tell them BBQ chicken is not so Portuguese after all!

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Cuenca's main plaza

Some of Cuenca's most interesting buildings. I looked around for them and tried hard, OK?

Knock, knock, knocking on the Amazon’s door

(Wednesday-Friday, 29-31 July 2009)

Google map: http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=pt-PT&geocode=&q=puyo+ecuador&sll=-2.893667,-79.021397&sspn=2.687972,5.603027&ie=UTF8&ll=-1.454159,-78.126526&spn=0.672692,1.400757&t=h&z=10

Baños (check on the left of the Google map) is a small village surrounded by stunning Andes scenery. Probably one the locations with the most impressive natural setting I’ve ever seen. Imagine the cliffs that surround Andorra becoming even steeper, surrounding the city 360º, and getting lush green. It’s something like that…

It must have been an idyllic place years, perhaps decades ago. But now it has been taken over by tourism. The bad type of tourism. It’s a Mecca of cheap forms of adrenaline-rush activities, ranging from rafting to mountain biking. The proximity of the still very active volcano Tungurahua adds to the mix. Dozens and dozens of low quality tourist agencies all offering the same type of standardised and uninteresting tours. Oh!, how I looooooove those bloody agencies!! Zero differentiation in their offering, all targeting the same type of traveller, with the same type of pre-packaged experiences. To hell with you!!!

I arrived to Baños still half-dead from my climbing experience to Chimborazo, got quickly amazed by the beautiful scenery and even quicker depressed by the touristy feel of the town. Decided to leave early the following day. And so I did.

But then decided to go back… Only because I did the Baños-Puyo road on a bus, and was deeply impressed by the stunning beauty of the ride. I had to do it on my own, by bike, I though! And so I did. Got the bus from Puyo back to Baños, time for another night in the tourist getto, a good football match with the locals in the late afternoon, and a 44km bike ride the following day, repeating the Baños-Puyo road that I had done the day before. With all the back & forwards counted, I did that journey 5 times!! Every time was worth it…

I don’t think the pictures capture the beauty of the place properly. The road navigates a valley that goes from deep Andean mountains all the way to the beginning of the Amazon plateau. The valley opens up gently, and the gorge surrounded by lush green cliffs gives way bit by bit to more tropical landscape, of gentler shapes.

There is something magical about seeing this transition from the Andes mountain range to the world’s biggest tropical forest just in front of your eyes, just below your feet. I don't know... I was just blown away by it...

I did that journey 5 times, right? I would have done it 10 times, if needed be…

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Please forget the stupid helmet - focus on the surroundings! :-D

Steep cliffs, narrow valley, beautiful scenery

Waterfalls everywhere, including on the road...

Lush, lush, lush green...

And here it is, the valley opening up gently, welcoming the Amazon, just in from of me...

The Amazon's door

Don't aim too high

(Tuesday-Wednesday, 28-29 July 2009)

Google map: http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=pt-PT&geocode=&q=volcan+chimborazo+ecuador&sll=-2.089342,-78.570442&sspn=0.168116,0.350189&ie=UTF8&ll=-1.445922,-78.777466&spn=0.336349,0.700378&t=h&z=11

After my solo hike around volcano Cotopaxi – see 3 posts below – I saved my first experience with crampons and ice axe for volcano Chimborazo’s summit. At 6,268 meters, is the highest mountain in Ecuador, and due to the Earth’s bulge at the equator, it's also the closest you can get to the stars while with your feet on the ground. I couldn’t resist the temptation of climbing up to the Earth’s closest point to the sun, could I?

Well… I shouldn’t have aimed so high, I guess: I only managed to do half the climb, giving up at 5,700 meters, at 2h45 in the morning, after more than 3 hours going up, up, up. Always up.

I thought I was in pretty good shape. I thought I was more or less acclimatized to the high altitude, after my walks in Quilotoa and Cotopaxi. Actually I was. Just not enough!

The climb up is very, very tiring. You start around 23h30 (yes, at night, when the snow is harder and thus easier to navigate) from the last mountain refuge, at 5,000 meters, and you are expected to climb up for the next 7 hours all the way to the summit, and then around 3 other hours down, back to the base.

The lack of oxygen is punishing. For instance, it was hard to fall asleep at the mountain refuge the night before. Whenever, almost with my eyes closed and an inch away from the arms of Morpheus, I’d forget to take slow and deep breaths, I’d be suddenly awaken by the need to inhale deeper, with my heart beating faster than normal. Then, I would inhale profoundly, only for the scene to repeat itself a few scarce minutes later. Now imagine what the lack of oxygen does to you when you’re climbing up the mountain, hitting the snow hard with your crampons for hours, and using the axe to help you navigate a 45º ice slope…

The best views of the mountain I managed to get were actually from… the day before and the day after the climb! Going up during the night with only a flashlight in your forehead iluminating a few scarce meters around you means you don’t see much beyond rock, ice, snow and stars. Plenty of stars!

So yes, the recollections I have from the experience are most of the hard physical effort I had to pull. Oh yes – and of the unforgettable sound that sometimes the ice platforms make when you step on them with your crampons, cracking loudly, making you think someone must be firing a weapon right on your back.

From the refuge, the summit seems just there. At your arms’ reach. It’s hard to believe you need 7 long hours to get there. But you do. First, your eyes trick you and things are of a much larger scale than what they seem: when, in the next morning I was back down at the refuge and saw a couple of climbers in the mountain, I couldn’t believe how small and insignificant they were against the massive landscape around them. Second, some of the slopes are quite steep, and making the same repetitive effort of kicking the snow the all time to fix well your crampons, in an environment poor in oxygen, just tires up your lunges and muscles completely.

I thought of giving up 3 or 4 times before I eventually did. I tried to push my resistance further and further, but the thought of having yet another 3 good hours to reach the summit just felt overwhelming. And my mountain guide was starting to feel worried I would be no longer in good conditions to walk my way down on my own if I continued to push any further. If climbing up is a huge effort for your thighs and lungs, walking down really pushes for your knees, as you need to keep fixing your crampons tight on the ice in order not to slip…

When I finally arrived back at the refuge, well after 4h30 in the morning, I was happy I had made the decision to go back when I did: I was more tired than I had ever been in my life. And if half of me was thinking I might had made it to the summit if I had pushed a bit further, the other half was thinking how beyond overwhelming the way down would have been if I had decided that way…

I made a few mistakes. I was thinking the all time how much more I would have to walk to reach the top, instead of cooling down and thinking of a step at a time, for instance. Also, we were walking too fast the first hour, when I was feeling great and should have saved some energy for later. Last but surely not least, I should have climbed a few lower summits to learn better how to use the ice gear and get better acclimatized. Even very experienced mountaineers spend a good week doing so around other mountains in Ecuador before attempting Chimborazo, but I didn’t. Who the hell did I think I was?!

I have to say I came back from this experience with a sour taste in my mouth. From only seeing darkness during my climbing attempt, instead of an unforgettable sunrise from high up, at the summit. From having tried and failed.

But stupid me, I made the biggest of the mistakes well earlier I even set my feet on the mountain: I aimed too high.

Well, that’s a learning which should prove useful not only in future mountaineering attempts but also in general. I know so damn well how often I incurred in that very same mistake in my professional and personal life…

I should think about it for my round 2 with alpine mountaineering. I know there will be one soon enough – I’ve just developed too strong of a taste for high altitude mountains not to do it again.

Yep, I’m starting to dream of my next vacations in the Alps…

View of Chimborazo from the road that gives access to the lower mountain refuge, at 4,800 meters

Getting started on the use of crampons and ice axe, in the afternoon before the climb

Taking it easy at the last mountain refuge, at 5,000 meters

Yep, that's the best view I had of the bloody mountain! By the way, the very top is hidden behind this first summit. It takes around 45 minutes from there to reach it

5,700 metes at 2h45 in the morning. Time to throw the towel. My face looks like this because of the camera's flash, but that's exactly how I was feeling - too damn tired!

Tasting sour in my mouth. Early morning of the following day, back at the mountain refuge at 5,000 meters. Next time, dude. Next time! Better prepared...

I'm a local

(Sunday, 26 July 2009)

Google map: http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=pt-PT&geocode=&q=riobamba+ecuador&sll=53.800651,-4.042969&sspn=12.739664,28.168945&ie=UTF8&ll=-1.524173,-78.700562&spn=2.690448,5.603027&z=8

Not sure if the graffiti author is also the store owner, but seems like my name is popular around here. In Riobamba, Ecuador.

A taste of the Andes

(Thursday-Saturday, 23-25 July 2009)

Google map: http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=pt-PT&geocode=&q=quilotoa+ecuador&sll=53.800651,-4.064941&sspn=12.739664,28.168945&ie=UTF8&ll=-0.830812,-78.767166&spn=0.33642,0.700378&t=h&z=11

This is known as the Quilotoa loop – a several-days hike through the small rural villages around the volcanic lake of Quilotoa.

I spoke to a fellow traveller who had been in Ecuador before, 10 years ago. Back then, he told me, tourism was a all different story, and the Quilotoa lake, for instance, was pretty much unknown and unexploited. Today the lake has a few souvenir stalls around (not enough to ruin the atmosphere, though), and the hike is recommended by pretty much every travel guidebook.

I was afraid of getting into an overdeveloped route, but the truth is that I haven’t. For instance, I didn’t cross any other tourist in the treks during my 3-day hike, and happen to be all alone in one of the hostels I stayed in. I was able to see stunning scenery, get to know a bit of the life in remote rural villages in Ecuador, and engage with some of the locals, either when they crossed my way and I had to ask indications on the path to follow, or playing volleyball in the main plaza of the village, at the end of day.

It felt to me the right level of tourism development – enough so that you can easily find relatively good trail maps and indications on how to get to the different places; enough so that you have 1 or 2 decent hostel options in each village; but not too much so that the hike looses authenticity.

To be honest, it was a 5 stars experience…

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=== Day 1 - Zumbahua, Laguna Quilotoa and Chugchilán ===

The view while departing Zumbahua on a truck - classic Andes landscape, no?

Laguna Quilotoa - why go so far, to Ecuador, to see this? I could go to Açores instead, right? ;-)



Frequent crossings with locals, navigating the trails on their daily lives, from one village to the other, from one field to the other. Despite speaking Quichua (and not much Spanish), they're were instrumental in keeping me on the right track these three days...

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=== Day 2 - From Chugchilán to Isinliví ===

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The Quilotoa's crater, seen from afar

As I said in a previous post, volleyball courts everywhere...

Alone in the hostel in Isinliví. And I really mean alone: even the lady who takes care of the place went away for the night; all I had for company were these kittens (and their mother)
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=== Day 3 - From Isinliví to Sigchos ===

(Half) Way around volcano Cotopaxi

(Sunday-Tuesday, 19-21 July 2009)

Google map: http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=pt-PT&geocode=&q=volcano+cotopaxi+ecuador&sll=-0.831499,-78.449936&sspn=0.33642,0.700378&ie=UTF8&ll=-0.791677,-78.409424&spn=0.336424,0.700378&t=h&z=11

At 5897m, Cotopaxi is the second highest volcano (and mountain) in Ecuador. Given its proximity to Quito, and the relatively straightforward – even if very tiring! – climb through ice to the top, it’s also a (very) popular tourist destination.

For a bit more than hundred dollars you can hire, through a tour agency, a guy who tells you the basics of walking on ice and guides you to the top of the mountain – 6 hours up, from midnight to 6am, and then around 3 hours more to get down. You’re transported on a 4WD to a mountain refuge at 4800m, in the north face of the volcano, so that most of your energies are spent climbing the summit, and not getting close to it.

The prospect of having to pay that amount of money and, at least as important I’ve to say, getting boxed in a packaged tour and having to share the experience with up to 12 or 14 other people, made me seek alternative ways of enjoying Cotopaxi. (OK, and to be completely honest, if I have to go on one of those tours, let it be to Chimborazo, Ecuador’s highest mountain and the Earth’s closest point to the sun!! :-D)

So, after some investigation, I decided to go for a solo circumvallation of Cotopaxi, starting in its southwest side and going around the crater anticlockwise. I had read of people doing it in around 4 days or so.

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I had a few unsuccessful talks with tour operators who, in the prospect of getting no tour fee from me, either declined to rent me any equipment or provided me (ridiculously) erroneous information along the lines of “you can’t set a tent on the easter side of the volcano as the soil is to hard there”. Yeah...

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Finally I found a generous soul who, as excited with my enterprise as myself, not only rented me the equipment I needed but also provided me plenty of information. Apparently “hiking around the volcano is not something that is done everyday because of lack of tourist appeal but is very doable, including if you're alone”. Moreover, “you won't get completely lost, as you always know more or less where the volcano is, and in case you loose track of where you are - it happens - you can always go back on your footsteps”. Great: I was convinced and there I went, for a 4-day adventure.

It was a great experience, one that considerably expanded my comfort zone, pushed me from a physical point of view, and provided spectacular views.

OK, I wasn’t successful on my attempt of walking 360º around Cotopaxi – I did more like 180º or something... But I put in practice everything I learnt during my 6-days hike in El Cocuy (Colombia), and learnt something new: the importance of having a reliable map with you. Quite obvious lesson, isn’t it?! And, more importantly, I tried. It may sound ridiculous, or at least hard to understand, but that means a lot me…

By the way, the guy who rented me the equipment was right. Perhaps not about the “you won't get completely lost” part, but on the “in case you loose track of where you are, you can always go back on your footsteps” bit. God bless! :-D

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=== Day 1 - from Latacunga (2800m) to Cotopaxi's south face (4000m) ===

Waiting for a bus in Latacunga (the largest city closet to Cotopaxi) that would take me to Mulaló, a small village closer to the edge of the volcano (check the Google map). Bolívar shows the way to Cotopaxi? No, actually the volcano is in the opposite direction...

Weather, and thus visibility, sucked in the first day!

View from Cotopaxi's south face, at 4000m. You're supposed to see Ecuador's "avenue of volcanoes" from here, but only clouds that day...
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=== Day 2 - from Cotopaxi's south face to somewhere in the northeast face! ===

View of Cotopaxi from the south face. The day started with mixed weather prospects - relatively clear at the top, but quite cloudy at lower altitude, meaning those clouds would sooner or later move up... I decided to continue with the hike, nonetheless
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It's quite easy to keep sense of direction while climbing a volcano - after all, there is one obvious reference, right? The tricky thing is that the mountain is rich in deep canyons like this one, where lava used to flow when the volcano was still active. Unless you cross them close to the crater, where they start and thus are much less deep, these canyons are often just... impassable!


Still in the south face, facing... one of those canyons!


The deep canyon of a few pictures above becomes surmountable closer to the snow-capped peak. This is where you can cross it from left to right, climb further up and finally negotiate the high-mountain passage just by the glacier, to move on from the south to the east face of Cotopaxi (the high-mountain passage is further up, to the right, behind the black rocks - not visible in the photo)
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Already in the east face of the vulcano, but with lousy weather that didn't allow me to see much beyond lunar-like landscape. The terrain close to the snow-capped peak (at around 5,000m) is relatively flat, making it more or less easy to navigate. The problem is when you try to go a little bit further up or down...

Yep, as expected from the morning outlook, the weather got completely closed and rain came in

Very optimistic after coming downhill in the east face of the volcano. The weather was a bit better, and, from the map, it was supposed to be just a few hours walk until I could find a decent trek again

Damn canyon! You cannot see it here all the way to its bottom, but it was a few hundred meters deep. I could not find a way of crossing it, or understand exactly where in the map (or sort of map I had - see below) I was. The alternative was to climb up the mountain again (around 2h, for sure!) and try to cross the canyon further up. That sounded a bit risky, as in addition to not knowing exactly where I was, from the look of the 2 other canyons ahead the same could happen again (i.e., having to move up and down in search for a crossing), what would mean up to half-day of precious hiking time...

You cannot find a proper, detailed and navigation-oriented map of Cotopaxi anywhere near Cotopaxi, only in Quito - this was the best I could get. I thought having the volcano's crater as a reference would be enough to compensate for the shortcomings of this map, but ended up getting stuck somewhere between "Cerro Chiguilasin Chico" and the deer antlers sign in the map. From there, it was completely impossible to anticipate steep cliffs through level-curves, or even identify exactly in the map where I was due to the lack of detail. Very helpful indeed...

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After 3 hours going up and down the cliff, trying (and not being able) to find a way to cross the canyon, it started raining again. I had been walking for 7 hours non-stop, was bloody exhausted, and decided to call it for the day. Setting up the tent and trying to have some rest at... 3.30 pm!

The weather cleared up a bit at the end of the day (and the night was spotless, with a clear sky full of stars, without any artificial light around to ruin the view). After considering my options, and being already half-way through the planned time for the hike (and the food I had with me), I decided to go back on the following day

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=== Day 3 - from somewhere in the northeast face back to Latacunga ===

Back to higher up in the mountain, reversing my steps of the previous two days. This time, with much better weather... and views!

Back in the south face of the volcano. After talking, on my return to Latacunga, with the mountain guide who had rented me the camping equipment, I understood where my mistake was: after crossing the high-mountain passage that allows you to move from the south to the east face of the volcano (behind the rocky peak, to the right of the photo), I had two small trails to choose from, one further up and another further down; I took the wrong one... in the morning of day 2! It would have been useful to know that back then, right?

The weather got worse again, later in the day. View of Cotopaxi from much further down - at around 3,000m - when I was already far on my way back to Latacunga

End of the walk. Wasn't too bad to catch a ride to run the last couple of km to Mulaló - I had been walking non-stop for 7 hours. For the second consecutive day...