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 I

In the book "Abroad," the author laments the death of "travel" on the order of Ernest Hemingway and Robert Byron, which has been replaced by tourism. Perhaps nowhere is this more observable than South America, where hordes of gringos are shuttled to this place and that, and hundreds of thousands of people earn their living from this industry.

When Brian and I decided to go to the depths of the primary rainforest in Ecuador, it seemed a good way to escape from this, however briefly. However, as rugged as it may sound, it's still tourism through and through: meals and drinking water provided, bilingual guide, cabins with comfortable mattresses, tight itinerary.

The first leg of our journey was a night bus from Quito to the oil town of Lago Agrio, 7 hours away. The bus left at 11 P.M. and we promptly set about finding a comfortable position to attempt some sleep. About an hour away from Quito, I was drowsing when there was a scraping noise and a BOOM! The bus began tilting, tilting... People were shouting, shaken from their sleep, and for a single impossibly long moment, we were perfectly balanced, suspended between two eventualities. I had enough time to think, This is it, this is where it all ends. And then we shifted the other way, all wheels landing firmly back on the ground. Everyone was awake now, staring straight ahead, and the bus rolled on in shocked silence.

After that incident, we soberly continued on our way, but now there was an odd sound coming from under the bus. We pulled over, and all the men filed off the bus to have a look and offer their opinions (and also to urinate). Brian went over to talk to one of the men.

Brian: "Is it the transmission? Transmission no bueno?"
Man: "Transmission, yes."
B: "Fuck."
M: "Yes, fuck. A fuck and a shit!"

At that point, it was midnight and we were off the road somewhere an hour from Quito, and it was pitch black all around. Somehow the only thing I could think about was whether we would get our money back if we didn't make it to Lago Agrio by morning. Luckily, it turned out to be only the exhaust pipe dragging (probably shaken loose by our earlier acrobatics). After it was fixed, we once again continued toward the jungle.

Sometime around dawn, after a night of restless sleep, we pulled into the ugly frontier town of Lago Agrio. Although not much to look at, it was a beautiful sight for us.

Lago Agrio

Although today we will return to being tourists, last night on that bus there were no tourists, only travelers. It's not an experience that I would wish on others, but I feel that at least I have had a little adventure, a story to tell. Of course, I hope the rest of our trip goes more smoothly. Part II to come in a few days when we are out of the jungle.