Category: Ecuador 2006

Written: Quito, Ecuador

It’s my last full day in Ecuador, and I’m back in Quito where I began a month ago. In some ways I’m looking forward to being home and seeing the people I left behind. Other than a short break at Christmas and a few days after the election, I haven’t been home since November. On the other hand, it’s going to be very hard to leave behind the flowers and comfortable weather and return to the misery of Canadian winter with freezing rain, slippery roads, and icy winds. I am NOT a winter person.

Funny, when I got up this morning in Papallacta, up in the mountains at around 3,500 meters (11,500 feet approx.), a woman probably from Quito was complaining that “hace frio” (it’s cold). It was actually about 8 to 10 degrees C. I wanted to correct her — “hace fresco” (it’s cool), cold is when there’s snow and ice, but most people here have no concept of cold. Only the few who have climbed the highest mountains or been abroad.

After Otavalo, on Sunday I returned to Quito and spent one night in a hotel in the Old Town before heading into the mountains to Papallacta. My hotel was quite incredible — the building dated back to the 16th (or maybe 17th) century, and was in the heart of the old colonial area. It was built around a flower-filled courtyard. As with most colonial buildings, the ceilings were around 16 feet high. In my room they’d actually put in a loft in part of the upper level, and had a little iron spiral stairway to reach the loft. At $22 U.S. per night (including breakfast), this was very good value for Quito, though a bit more than my usual $10 to $15 a night.

I had tried to go to Papallacta earlier when I returned from the Oriente, but had arrived after everything was closed, and had to continue on. (This place has the best hot springs in Ecuador). This time I planned a final treat for the trip — a night at the luxury Termas de Papallacta hotel, which at $66 U.S. a night is something only upper class Ecuadorians and gringos can afford. But again I was out of luck — not being up on my Catholic holidays, I hadn’t realized this was a special holiday part of Carnival — Skinny Monday or Fat Tuesday or something. Half of upper class Quito was also headed to Papallacta, and the hotel was fully booked, even though it’s normally almost empty on week days.

In the end, I got a cheaper hotel room, and payed $6 to use the facilities at Termas de Papallacta, which turned out to be a good solution. The hot springs are set beneath the mountains, and are surrounded in tropical plants. There are various pools at every temperature from icy cold to boiled lobster, and in between. You soak in one until you feel like a change in temperature, and then move to another. A perfect way to soften up tense stiff muscles.

Papallacta is set in high mountain cloud forest, and I took several hikes, both on my own and with a guide. The plants of the cloud forest are quite amazing, with several varieties of small orchids, twisty mossy trees, and various other plants that grow out of these trees as parasites. The walks followed a raging stream and many waterfalls.

Today I’ll take in a few of Quito’s museums and get ready for my return tomorrow.

 

 

Written: Otavalo, Ecuador

I first heard of Otavalo in 1974 when I stayed in southern Colombia. Otavalo was this cool indigenous town with a great crafts market, wonderful climate, and spectacular scenery. I never made it any further south that trip, so it was another 32 years before I actually got to Otavalo.

No doubt there’s been a lot of development here in those three decades, and many changes. There certainly weren’t two Internet cafes to a block in those days, or tour buses from Quito. But Otavalo didn’t disappoint after all those years.

The climate is great. There are flowers blooming everywhere and palm trees in the square. It’s comfortable in a t-shirt during the day, though you need to wear a bit more at night, but it’s not too hot. There are several extinct volcanoes surrounding the town, and nearby are several lakes.

The indigenous people of Otavalo have been weavers since Inca times, and the town has become known for its textiles. These range from higher quality work, to the cheaper stuff sold to tourists at Plaza de los Ponchos — Poncho Plaza, a permanent market. The people have been economically successful, while managing to retain their culture. The indigenous men never cut their hair, which they wear in long pony tails. The women wear fancy blouses.

Saturday is the big market day, drawing many people from the surrounding villages, as well as large numbers of tourists. In fact, today I saw many of the gringos I’d met at various places around Ecuador over the past weeks. Such is the drawing power of this market.

I woke in the wee hours and again headed first to the animal market, just outside town. It was still dark when I got there, but already there were many animals and business was in full swing. As it got lighter, I wandered through the sections devoted to cows, pigs, and sheep. There were a few horses, and I only saw one pair of alpacas. In many respects this was like the animal market in Saquisili that I wrote about a few days ago. This time I had a better idea of what would make good pictures, and I positioned myself accordingly.

Later I returned to town and wandered through the other markets, which were more extensive than Saquisili — fruit and vegetables, household goods, electronic appliances, and over course crafts and textiles aimed at tourists. There were ponchos next to Che Guevara t-shirts, paintings on leather, alpaca sweaters, hammocks, and numerous other items. Bargaining is expected, and prices in part are based on how rich and stupid a tourist appears to the seller. I picked up a few gifts, but exercised restraint.

Yesterday I took a walk out of town to one of the nearby lakes, and weather permitting, I’ll do another walk tomorrow before returning briefly to Quito.

 

 

 

 

Written: Otavalo, Ecuador

When my alarm went off at 5:30 a.m. this morning, it seemed too damned early to get up — especially on holidays. A short while later, as I left the hotel, the guy at the front desk knowingly asked me: “Saquisilí?”

“Si,” I replied. About the only reason a gringo would be up so early.

Saquisilí is the most important indigenous market in Ecuador, and it’s held every Thursday morning in the town of Saquisilí, about 20 minutes outside Latacunga. Walking through the still dark streets, I saw other people headed in the direction of the bus station. Shortly, a bus made the rounds of the streets, the driver’s assistant shouting out “Saquisilí!” I hopped on.

The market has a section for household supplies, fruit and vegetables, hardware, etc. It is mostly geared to local needs, though there is a section of Otavalo weavers featuring ponchos, bags, and other things aimed at tourists. I was headed though to the animal market, just on the edge of town.

Things were getting underway when I arrived at 7 a.m. People were already leaving with pigs or sheep on ropes — some leading a number of them. Others were hauling away their purchases in the backs of pickup trucks.

Watching the people is as fun as watching the animals. The Indian women wear their distinctive pork pie hats, and many carry babies on their backs. I was amused to see one very traditional looking Indian woman talking away on her cell phone. It seems absolutely everyone in Ecudor has them.

The animals were divided into different areas — sheep, cattle, and pigs. There were some llamas in with the sheep, and there were a few horses and donkeys, but the main action centred on sheep, cattle and pigs. The pigs were by far the most upset about the market experience. Some were struggling to pull at ropes tied to their legs. The animal cruelty people Mark and I met last year would be frothing at the mouth at some of the things I saw, though on the whole it was relatively humane as agricultural animal handling goes.

I took pictures of animal and people. Some people smiled for the camera, a few objected, but most people simply ignored me. There were a few other tourists, but the locals were far too engaged in business to pay much attention. The most amusing encounters I saw were people struggling to control pigs, some of which were quite huge and had minds of their own. One young man was practically pulled off his feet when his giant porker took control of the rope and went charging into an area of animal feed. Many women led many piglets on ropes like a professional dog walker.

It was still early when I returned to Latacunga and checked out. This was one of the clearest, sunniest days so far, and I had good views of the mountains as I took a bus north to Quito, and then another bus north to Otavalo.

I’m now back in the northern hemisphere, having crossed the Equator between Quito and Otavalo. Otavalo’s main market is Saturday, and it is more geared to tourists, specializing in indigenous weaving. It too has an animal market. I’m here for a couple days, so hopefully can hike and take in the market.

 

Written: Latacunga, Ecuador

Yesterday afternoon I arrived back in the highlands after a few days on the Pacific Coast. Latacunga is a small city that has been destroyed three times by eruptions of the volcano Cotopaxi, and each time the residents have rebuilt it. The last eruption was over 100 years ago, and one of my guidebooks, written a few years ago, suggests it isn’t ready to erupt again for a few years yet.

The trip to the Pacific Coast had its ups and downs, but in hindsight, I probably should not have done it, and spent more time in jungle and highlands instead. There were many long intolerable hours spent cramped on slow buses that stopped everywhere, it was hot and muggy, the beaches were dirty, and added to that I got sick for good measure. Atahualpa punishing me for actions of the Spaniards 500 years ago no doubt.

I did get a chance to bounce around in waves that were high enough for good surfing, and also had a chance to experience the Pacific side of Ecuador. It seems generally poorer than many places on the central plateau and many houses perched on stilts sit above festering flood waters. There are vast banana plantations on the lowlands between the coast and the mountains.

Despite a bus ride that cramped my legs so much I could hardly walk when I got off, the scenery climbing the Andes from the coastal lowlands was spectacular. The mountains are green and rounded — not jagged like the Rockies. Cultivation and animal grazing is done as amazing elevations and on incredible slopes.

Today, against my better judgment, I went on a day hike to Cotopaxi with a guide and an Irish/Greek couple. I was feeling weak already from being ill and on antibiotics, and you shouldn’t do any tough climbing coming from the coast without acclimatizing to the altitude for a few days. I felt dizzy and often had to stop to gasp for oxygen, but fortunately didn’t experience any of the more serious symptoms of altitude sickness. It was worth it — even though the views weren’t like the crystal-clear sky travel posters, they were better than I expected, and the clouds often cleared enough to see much of Cotopaxi’s snowy cone. I had feared the mountain might be completely obscured by clouds.

The snow was probably about 500 metres higher up in elevation. We climbed at 4,500 metres (14,000 feet), but I didn’t need to get any closer to the snow. I’ll see more than enough in one week from now.

Tomorrow and Saturday I plan to check out a couple of Ecuador’s better known Indian markets. Unless anyone wants me to bring back a llama or some piglets, I don’t think I’ll find much tomorrow, but it should be colourful.

 

 

Written: Bahía de Caráquez, Ecuador

One of the problems of not being able to keep this blog up to date while travelling in remote areas is that by the time I am able to write, there is so much to tell about. Here are a few highlights from recent days:

– I did a number of additional hikes with Victor, my Quichua Indian guide at Shangrila — some through primary forest, and some through secondary forest that had patches of agriculture. One one of these, he took me to two Quichua villages where his family lives. There, I took pictures of curious school children, and greeted them with a few Quichua words I learned, but have since forgotten, which amused them greatly. At Victor’s uncle and aunt’s place — a bamboo hut — I was offered the local beverage, chicha de yucca. This, I had read, was made by older women chewing the root of the yucca plant, and spitting the mixture of chewed up yucca and saliva into water, where it is allowed to ferment for a couple days. I knew about this process, but also knew it is offensive to turn down an offer of chicha de yucca. In the end, I sipped a bit of it, and then got Victor to surrepticiously finish off my bowl of the stuff. It really wasn’t bad tasting — just the thought of drinking someone else’s gob kind of made me squeemish.

– One day we did a trip down the Ansu River into the Napo River on two truck tire inner tubes lashed together. It was very relaxing floating on the tube in a bathing suit and watching the jungle go by with exotic birds flying around. The junction of the two rivers is a favourite spot for kayakers and there was a group of Americans kayaking as we floated by. Victor assured me there are no piranhas in these parts, although they do exist further down river. Apparently you can swim with them, and they don’t usually go into a feeding frenzy unless they taste blood.

– After Shangrila, I had planned to spend a night in Tena to get washed up and organized, as all my clothes were dirty from the jungle. But I was warned that a strike was planned the next day that would shut down all roads and transportation in Napo province for an indefinite number of days. I was advised to get out of town immediately, while the buses were still running. To make a long story short, I ended up taking buses all through the night, and having to walk four kilometres on a dark country road around midnight, unable to find a place to stay (hotels close their doors early in Ecuador, and no one answers if you knock). I ended up taking numerous buses right across the Andes and to the Pacific coast, an ordeal that involved 19 hours on slow buses. At several points roads were knocked out by landslides, and at one place there was a 20 km lineup of cars and buses at 3 a.m. until the landslide could be cleared enough that traffic could get through. Then there was a mad race of vehicles passing one another on blind curves on dangerous mountain roads as everyone tried to make up for lost time. At least there was a big picture of Jesus at the front of the bus.

– Ecuadorean buses are not much fun. Riding them right through the night is even less fun, as I can’t sleep. The drivers blare music so that the speakers rattle, or worse, play bad videos. Usually these are bad Hollywood action movies dubbed into Spanish. On one bus, they had the nerve to show one of the Arry PottER movies, until passengers began yelling “fuera!” (out with it!). It was quickly replaced with a more appropriate bad Chinese kung fu action movie dubbed into Spanish, which settled everyone down. Although the buses are infinitely more comfortable than Guatemalan chicken buses, they are much less comfortable than Mexican buses, which in many cases are better than Greyhounds. The buses stop everywhere, and average speed, when they aren’t racing down canyons, is only around 40 km/h.

– Although I generally like Ecuador, and find the people friendly, I have one other pet peeve aside from the buses and the general love of noise. Ecuador is a coffee producing country, but most Ecuadorean restaurants give you a cup of hot water or hot milk and a jar of Nescafe if you order coffee. Yech.

– On the plus side, there’s a fantastic variety of fruits that are made into wonderful juices. These are surpassed among the countries I’ve been to only by Colombia. Aside from the juices that are familiar to North Americans such as pineapple, blackberry, and papaya, there are others that most gringos haven’t heard of — naranjilla, guayabana, and numerous others.

If it’s nice tomorrow I plan to spend the day at the beach on the Pacific trying hard not to think about all the freezing rain, snow, and miserable weather at home. I’ll be back in that soon enough.

 

Currently I’m in Bahía de Caráquez on Ecuador’s Pacific coast. The following was written by hand several days ago in the jungle when I didn’t have access to a computer:

Written February 14, 2006, Shangrila Lodge, near Tena, Ecuador

My Quichua Indian guide Victor pulled down a plant and cut off some leaves. These, he told me in Spanish, were an antidote in case of a bite by a poisonous snake. Apparently there are several poisonous snake species in the area, whose names he told me, but the only one I recognized was the coral snake.

Twenty minutes later, along a dense jungle trail, he pointed to the ground – a snake. It was small and dark and blended into the ground and I didn’t see it until he pointed it out. I slithered away at lightening speed. This one, Victor told me, was poisonous.

“Would you die if it bit you?” I asked.

“Yes, in about 25 minutes. But we’d be okay because of these leaves,” Victor told me, pointing to where he had put them in his string bag.

This is primary rain forest in an area where much of the land has been cleared, or has been overgrown again with secondary forest. I was alone with Victor, and I had to trust in his knowledge of this environment, which had been passed on to him by his father and grandfather. The jungle, I soon learned, for the Quichua people, was a huge supermarket and pharmacy, but it took an enormous knowledge of its many plants and animals to know which were beneficial and which were potentially harmful.

We wore rubber boots, which were prefect for walking in the rain forest. After descending a steep and muddy hill, and passing many squadrons of army ants and worker ants to the loud sound of chirping insects and birds, we arrived at a stream bed. Walking was easy in the stream which formed a natural pathway clear of most of the dense undergrowth. Victor warned me not to walk on the black rocks, which are very slippery, but instead on the brown ones that provided a lot of traction. I also had to beware of places where the stream would come over the tops of my boots, but for the most part it was shallow.

Victor pointed out other medicinal plants – one that is a natural anaesthetic against tooth aches, one for stomach problems, one for colicky children, and one with a distinctive smell that chases away bad spirits, and can get rid of headaches.

At one point he reached into a mossy tree and pulled out some small ants onto his fingers, which he invited me to taste as they crawled around. Lemon ants. I hesitated, but ate them anyway. Not being used to eating live ants though, one bit my chin causing a sharp sting that surprised me. We both laughed.

At last we reached a junction where one trail led up a hill and another up a narrow stream canyon. Victor looked me over, and decided I was capable of the stream canyon. This was an experience. The space between the walls of the canyon got narrower and narrower so that at times they were less than two feet apart, and I had to turn sideways to squeeze through. Though tough, this wasn’t too bad. But then the canyon came to a dead end. Here we would have to climb its walls. Victor told me to do exactly as he did, to put my feet forward against the wall in front, and sit into the wall behind, pushing behind me with my hands. Fortunately the gravelled rock wasn’t slippery, but it was somewhat difficult, and I was afraid of slipping and falling. Higher now, we edged up the canyon.

Victor flicked sand up into a dark area we were heading into, and out flew literally hundreds of bats. He kept flicking sand, and more emerged, now zipping around our heads. As we squeezed upwards, between the narrow canyon walls, I could feel the breeze from their wings on my face. These bats won’t bite, Victor reassured me. They are fruit-eating bats and not vampires. Still, this did seem quite different from my usual lifestyle in Ottawa to be slithering up a narrow canyon amidst hundreds of flapping bats.

Over the course of this and another walk in the afternoon, Victor showed me other jungle knowledge – how the fronds of large leaves can be woven to make a temporary shelter (why carry a tent?) or can make a camouflaged blind from which to hunt with blow darts or arrows.

The jungle was amazing, with so many broad-leafed plants, great ceibo trees, butterflies, hummingbirds, and incredible sized Conga ants. This was a walk unlike any other I’ve taken.

Shangrila itself is a cabin complex perched in an incredible location on the side of a cliff overlooking a big loop in the muddy brown Ansu River, a tributary of the Amazon, beyond which stretched miles of forest, and in the distant haze the foothills of the Andes.

The complex is built on many levels, and of wood. Until the last of three days, when a tour group arrived, I had the place pretty much to myself, along with the Ecuadorean staff. There’s a large open sheltered area at the top where numerous hammocks hang, and that’s where I’m writing this.

Last night when I arrived in Tena, there was an incredible thunder storm which flashing lightning. The thunder was the loudest I’d ever heard, practically shaking the buildings. Even my driver, who should be used to these weather events, commented how loud it was – like a war.

My Quichua guide Victor gave me a lesson in navigating through the rain forest near Tena, Ecuador. We wear rubber boots and wade up streams where there is less vegetation. There are still slippery rocks and mud to deal with. (Richard McGuire Photo)

 

 

Written: Tena, Ecuador

I’m now in steamy hot Tena, a town of about 20,000 people on the edge of the jungle. Tomorrow I head off for several days in the primary rainforest, staying in a jungle cabin not too far from here.

I left Baños this morning taking a bus along the same route towards Puyo that I took by bicycle yesterday. At the first tunnel, however, traffic had come to a stop. Word was that a landslide had closed the road, and traffic wouldn’t move until 3 p.m. It was now only 10 a.m. We were far enough out of Baños that going back wasn’t too practical an option. Faced with the likelihood of a wait of five hours or more, I decided to investigate walking. I asked a cop if pedestrians could pass. He indicated they could, so I grabbed my pack and began hiking through the tunnel. What I didn’t know was that the actual landslide was still about 5 km away. I crossed it around noon. As I headed to the next village in the hopes of getting transportation to Puyo, traffic began passing me, and I flagged down my original bus. Evidently the wait had only been a couple hours instead of five.

The driver tried to make up for lost time, barreling down the canyon, passing on blind curves with deep precipices to the side. I felt secure though — he had a couple plastic Virgin Marys on his dashboard, and they flashed in red and green lights whenever he hit the brakes. You need faith to take buses in Latin America.

Later that afternoon, I arrived in Tena. It was very hot and I was sweating and thirsty. After a few cooling drinks of agua mineral, I set off to a nice little zoological park on an island in the river. It was a jungle setting with lots of lush tropical trees and plants. The handful of animals had lots of room, and monkeys ran around freely, jumping between trees. I tried to photograph a few little ones who jumped faster than I could focus the camera.

Tomorrow I head off early in the morning for three days, and will be without Internet.

 

Written: Baños, Ecuador

I’ve spent the past couple nights in Baños, a town that attracts both Ecuadorian and foreign tourists. Baños, whose name means “baths”, lies just below the active volcano Tungurahua, which at various times over the centuries has erupted and threatened the local inhabitants. Only a few years back, the volcano blew its top, forcing the evacuation of the community.

The volcanic activity has produced hot springs, which provide hot baths for locals and visitors.

Baños lies at a comfortable 1800 metres (5,000 feet) which gives it a pleasant climate, rich with flowering trees and other plants. Currently though, it’s the rainy season, which has meant the town has been shrouded in clouds, and there are periodic rainfalls.

It’s also a centre of Catholic pilgrimage, as people come to visit the Basilica of Our Lady of the Holy Waters. There, the virgin, has been responsible for forestalling many disasters, including volcanic eruptions.

Today was one of the nicer days in a while, and I took advantage of it by renting a mountain bike and descending the canyon in the direction of the jungle village of Puyo. It’s downhill most of the way, so there were only a few times when I had to pedal uphill. Most of the time I could glide. Numerous waterfalls marked the route, including the most spectacular Pailon del Diablo (Devil’s Cauldron), which involved a hike down from the main road through increasingly jungle-like vegetation.

Tomorrow I head to Tena in the jungle.

 

 

 

Written: Cuenca, Ecuador

Cajas National Park straddles the continental divide in the Andes just west of Cuenca. It is known for its highland paramo landscape — largely open grassland and scrub vegetation, not entirely unlike our northern tundra, and also for its many lakes, which provide 60% of Cuenca’s drinking water.

Although you can take a local bus up there and hike on your own, I opted to go on a hiking tour with a local guide, partly for easier access to areas I couldn’t get to on my own, and partly for safety — hiking at that elevation can be dangerous. The starting point was at around 4,200 metres or roughly 13,000 feet. At that elevation, altitude sickness is a strong possibility. One young woman in our group did experience symptoms, as she had recently come from sea level on the coast. Although I found Quito rough when I first arrived, I’ve now had over a week to acclimatize and all I experienced was shortness of breath on the steep ascents. In fact I was hyperventilating at times to get enough oxygen.

The open space is deceiving — there is a wealth of plant life. Most unusual were occasional forests of twisty trees — looking very enchanted and fairy tale like. These are apparently the highest forests in the world, and they cling to rocky sheltered ridges.

At one point we saw a mother alpaca and young son (see photos) and there were some interesting birds, but as for other animals, the only evidence of foxes etc. were droppings. Some in our group saw a condor in the distance, but I missed it.

The finale was dining on Canadian rainbow trout, which has been brought in to stock many of the lakes. Kind of ironic to travel to Ecuador to eat Canadian trout.

The Inca ruins at Ingapirca are closed due to a dispute between the indigenous peoples and the government, so I’m off tomorrow to Baños, another old hippie favourite known for its hot springs, active volcano, and excellent walks.