Things You Shouldn't Tell Your Mother

There are things in life that you shouldn't tell your mother. Travel in South America can be hairy enough, but these past few days I went above and beyond. 

We're in Latacunga, Ecuador, and we decided to do the famous but rustic Quilotoa Loop. We caught a bus without a hitch, but then, 5 minutes away from town, there was a hitch: construction crews were widening the only road through the mountains and we wouldn't be able to pass for a few hours. Since town was only five minutes away, we decided to take the scenic route and walk around the construction.

We startled some sheep on the way down

It started as a reasonable walk down through some fields. Then, there was a well-constructed bridge to cross the river, so we figured there must be a path that continued around the bend. Not so! This is what we encountered:

At this point, we had walked to far and were too stubborn to turn back. We had seen small children coming back from school skirting the roadblock, so really, how hard could it be?

This is actually the easy part. Plus, we had cheerleaders

Well, really really difficult. And pretty dangerous too. (Looking back, I have no idea what we would have done if I had twisted my ankle or, God forbid, broken anything.) It started out alright, with clumps of grass to put our feet on and a clear route ahead of us. But then, there was a patch with only loose gravel and dirt that went all the way down to the freezing river below. If you start sliding on that... Well, that's exactly what I was trying not to think about as I bounded across it in 2 steps before landing safely on the other side. From there, it was still a mental and physical struggle. We were only about halfway up, and big piles of rocks and other gravelly parts awaited. At this point, we had gained an audience of concerned (or possibly amused) construction workers who were cheering us on from the top. Luckily, once we had reached the rocks, the going was easier, with footholds and handholds aplenty. Finally, we reached the top, shaken and exhausted, but in one piece. From there, an enterprising man with a truck shuttled us up to Quilotoa.

The (cold) view of the laguna

Quilotoa was a surprisingly small and disorganized town for how popular it is with tourists. But, our hostel was cozy and warm, sort of. The next morning, we descended to the laguna and relaxed a bit before hiking back up. It would have been a difficult hike under any circumstances, but at 4,000 meters it was agonizing.

That afternoon, we caught another ride in a pickup truck to the next town of Chugchilán, 7 miles away. The dirt road was bumpy and a bit hair-raising, but the views were spectacular. In order to see better, and to protect our backsides from the jolting, we opted to stand for the whole thing. 

Stunning views and sheer drops make for an interesting ride

We arrived, and after a bit of confrontation (the French couple riding with us didn't want to pay the agreed-upon price), we settled in to a relaxing day of hammocks and beer and mountains. No more climbing for at least a few more days!

Into the Jungle, Part II

After leaving Lago Agrio, we rode in another bus for 3 hours until we reached the end of the road, where was a small house. We ate lunch while the Italians in our group were filming and photographing the children who lived there as if they were animals in a zoo. The amount of equipment they had with them was astounding, and one lady filmed the whole trip from start to finish. I think she was so busy filming that she forgot to actually see our surroundings. Then we continued in a long canoe-like boat for another 2 and a half hours. As you can see from the photo, it was a very wet ride.

Finally, we arrived at the lodge. While built in the local rustic style, it had hammocks, individual rooms, comfy mattresses, hot water for tea and hot chocolate... we weren't exactly roughing it. The weather was perfectly pleasant and there weren't many mosquitos on the river or in the lodge, only during the jungle walks. All the discomforts that the word "jungle" brings to mind simply didn't exist.

The first night, we went on a night walk to see the insects. There were grasshoppers, walking sticks, katydids, and all manner of very impressive and large bugs. Of course, each new discovery was heralded by the probing faces of the Italians' cameras and the continuous flashing as they snapped picture after picture. It was quite a comical sight, the paparazzi jostling for position to photograph a tiny insect.

Over the trip we saw macaws, toucans, dolphins, and five different types of monkeys! The one in the picture, Liana, used to be a pet but was rescued by the organization and now lives in the reserve. Monkeys are still hunted by the local people, both to eat and to be sold as pets.

Liana, eating her third banana and not slowing down 

While the days were filled with sightseeing and swimming in the river (a bit nerve-wracking for the men because of the dreaded penis fish that will swim up the urethra), it was the nights that were really enchanting. After dinner, we would play cards with the guides, exchange dirty vocabulary, and throw back a beer or two. Our guide, Jacob (ha-KOHB) gave me a henna tattoo of an iguana on my arm. One night, there was a concert, with the guides playing traditional music on an old, warped guitar with a water jug for a drum. Another night, someone bought a bottle of rum and we all sat around in the candlelight, joking and drinking. One by one people drifted off to their cabins, but I stayed up with Jacob and another guide until late, discussing Ecuadorian politics and jungle life while sipping punta, the jungle hooch made from sugar cane.

Every night, lying in bed or in the hammock, I would listen to the jungle concert and stare up at the stars. Out here, there was no rush. One could simply enjoy the sounds of the night insects, breathe deeply, and feel the stresses of life slipping away.

Our jungle family

The sun was hot and high in the sky when we set out for the last time in the boat. The giant trees along the banks and the birds dipping around the branches seemed even more beautiful now that we were leaving. Further up the river, trucks and barges and oil refineries began to appear, and the magic was over. It was time to return.