Quilotoa Loop 1/3-1/6

 We got back from the jungle late Wednesday (1/2) night and on Thursday (1/3) traveled to Latacunga, the most accessible part of the Quilotoa loop. There isn't much to say about Latacunga, except to tell about the meal we had there on Thursday night. We ate at a restaurant called Mamá Negra (also the name of a festival in Latacunga). They served the classic dish of the area: "Chugchucara." It really shouldn’t be considered one dish as it includes fried pork, fried pig skin, fried banana(plantains), hominy, toasted corn, popcorn, and cheese empanadas. Don’t ask how all of those came together to make a “classic,” but it was good. The cheese empanadas were our favorite.
We got on the 9:00 bus on Friday morning from Latacunga to Zumbahua with what we thought we needed in Michael’s daypack and Andrea’s backpacking pack. We had plenty of time on the bus and sit and read the phrases written in Spanish on the walls. One said “Jesus es mi pastor nada me faltara” which we eventually figured out is quoting Psalm 23 – The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. Every bus trip has to have a part that is the most interesting. This trip’s came when I pulled my backpack out from the storage underneath. I saw 3 chickens on the shelf next to it, sitting there like it was their coop. And just like if it was their coop, they’d laid an egg or two – which of course broke during the ride and my backpack got an egg bath. You can tell me if you think washing backpacks in eggs makes them nice and shiny when you see my pack next.

From Zumbahua we hitched a ride in a truck to Quilotoa. The driver dropped us off at the nicest hostel we’ve stayed at so far. Actually, I am going to go ahead and say it was a hotel. We got one room with two queen (or at least double) beds, just like an American hotel. It had it’s own bathroom, just like an American hotel. How was it different? We had a wood stove to heat the room. The sink had one knob with cold water only. The shower was bipolar as far as heat and even water pressure goes – up and down without ever touching the knobs. I won’t complain too much because there could have been no hot water at all.

Once we decided we’d pay the $20 per person to stay in the suite room, we bundled up to go see the Quilotoa lake. The lake is a collection of water inside the crater of a collapsed volcano. It has no stream going in or out of the lake, so the water is very alkaline and not potable. Sometimes it is called Lago Verde for the green color it has on sunny days. When we went to see it, the weather was cloudy and as we got to the crater rim, it started to rain. We thought we’d hike in the rain for a bit to see what we could see, but after less than 5 minutes Michael realized his red “raincoat” had lost its waterproofness. Luckily it still cuts the wind, so it is still good for warmth (as long as it’s not raining). Anyway, we decided to go back and have lunch and see if the weather would clear up. The restaurant we ate at on the crater rim was in a very nice building had pretty good food.  However, they didn’t heat the building at all and it was only warmer inside than outside because we were out of the rain.

The sky cleared some and we decided to hike down to the water’s edge. The incline was very steep, and in many places the path was soft like sand on a beach. As we went down, we passed people coming up on the backs of donkeys. There were only a few people “hoofing it” with their own two feet, and they were sweating and breathless. I soon learned how they felt

At the water’s edge, there was a little beach and a hill cropping up next to the beach. It would have been fun to explore all the little trails in the area, but Michael didn’t want to hang out too long incase it started raining on his non-rain coat. Therefore, we put our hand in the water (it wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t as cold as we thought it might be) and started the hike back up.I got tired on the gentler section closer to the beach and was worried Michael would run away from me. I shouldn’t have worried. He was very patient and gave my back a little push a few times. The guidebook said it would take about an hour to climb back up to the rim of the crater, but we got up in closer to 35 minutes. I’d like to say that Michael was pushing us so fast because he was afraid of rain, but I think that if it had been sunny we would have gone the same speed. 

After our hike we settled into the common room at the hotel. I drank lots of tea with hot water heated on top of the wood stove and talked with the other guests. There was a group of nine Dutch on a mountain bike trip, a couple living in Canada (the girl was from Germany originally),  and a younger couple studying at the University of Illinois who were visiting the guy’s family in Ecuador. We really enjoyed the company!

The next day we hired a guide to hike from Quilotoa to Chugchilan. Actually, we hired the guide's son, but then things got switched right before we left. He was trying to explain to us, but it was in Spanish so I'm not sure we really understood. He told us something like his mom had more experience than him, and maybe that she needed to go that way anyway. At first I thought she was just walking with the three of us, but then she led the way and he turned back to Quilotoa. Well...OK!!

We set out at about 9:30 in the morning from the lake. The first part of the hike is along the crater rim, but we soon started making the descent down. Overall, we went down in elevation from Quilotoa to Chugchilan. However, there was a fair amount of climbing up out of valleys too. When we first started, I thought that Chugchilan was just on the other side of the first valley. That was not correct at all. In fact, we couldn't see our destination until halfway through the trek. In the picture of Michael to the left, you can see the hill he is standing on, the hill behind him, and the hill to the left of his head. The hill to the left is the one that we came down from the crater rim. You can't see the bottom of the valley where there is a stream that we crossed. We started out with all our coats on, but you can see that after that first scramble up from the stream bed, Michael is down to his long-sleeved undershirts. It ended up being a beautiful day, and maybe even a little too much sun. Probably between 10 and 11 we got out our sunscreen. As we were applying, the guide asked if she could use some too. Of course we offered her the bottle. Later, we also offered her some water from our bottle and the water bladder in the backpack. It was fun to try and communicate how to use the bite valve for the bladder. 

Fairly early on, our guide broke off a branch from a bush near the path. She drug it along, and when we came up to some cows, she waved it at them to get them to move from the path. Later, she traded the branch with leaves for a stick about the size of a thin walking stick. This she used to point and shake at dogs that ran up to us barking and growling. We passed many small "farm" houses. It was interesting to see how they farmed any land they could, even land that had about a 60 degree grade to it. More often than not, the fields were more the size of our garden plots in Iowa. I wish I knew what they were growing. Michael also thought it was impressive how close to the edge of the canyon they planted. The picture without the cows shows the opposite edge of the canyon from where we walked and the fields on top going all the way to the edge. 

In addition to dogs, fields, and livestock (llamas, sheep, and cows were most common), we also saw people working in the fields and kids playing. Well, mostly we saw kids standing and staring at us as we walked past. The saddest thing we saw was a donkey on the side of the road. It was lying on its side and as we got closer it was evident that it was dead. There were three kids next to it, pushing on its large belly. At first I thought they were trying to wake it up, but as we passed them and I looked back, I decided they were trying to get the baby donkey out. It looked like there was something bulging from the donkey's rear end and our conclusion was that the poor burro had died because of stalled labor. 

The whole hike took us 3 hours, and we arrived at about 12:30 pm in Chugchilan. I think we really pushed the pace on this trek too, we were told it would be closer to 4 hours. Our little guide kept a pretty good pace for us until the last uphill into town. She had to pause quite frequently, and we were worried she hadn't had enough to drink. So, in addition to the $25 we owed her for her services, we gave her a 16 oz water bottle.  The picture to the right is of the three of us at the hostal in Chugchilan. We covered 10+ kilometers and didn't do anything for the rest of the day. If you find yourself in Chugchilan, I would recommend the Hostal Cloud Forest. It was very nice and from what we heard from other travelers the other places in town weren't as good.  :)

More pictures from the lake and the hike can be found at: https://plus.google.com/photos/104486736070540446376/albums/5834464356562982097?authkey=CO_owp2AxdikEQ

Back to Quito

On the morning of the fourth day, we were planning an early morning birdwatching session (similar to back home, many of the birds in the rainforest seem to like morning best), but we woke a little before six to the loud patter of rain on the roof. I don’t think a single person in our group bothered to even get out of bed to see if the birdwatching was still on. After the rainout, we had little else to do besides pack, eat some breakfast, and load back in the canoe for the two hour ride to a road. After two more hours on the road, we were back in Lago Agrio

            As soon as we arrived back in town, we headed to the bus station to get the first bus to Quito we could find. Nassima already had a ticket booked for a 2:45 bus, but it was sold out. Juan and Valentina were also trying to catch a bus back, but we had parted ways with the rest of our group who had other plans. After a bit of searching, Andrea, Juan, Valentina, and I were able to find a 2:45 bus of our own, though it didn’t look nearly as nice as the one that our French amiga was on. Nonetheless we hunkered down on the bus for a beautiful but slow ride (partially because of the winding road that leads back into the Andes Mountains from the rainforest and partially due to the aforementioned quality of our bus). The bus was cramped and there were a couple of children playing loudly in the aisle, who didn’t help the atmosphere. In short, it wasn’t an enjoyable bus ride before the loud bang that wreaked havoc on our plans for the night.

That bang was the sound of the front driver’s side tire exploding. We were going perhaps 50 km/hr at the time and the driver was able to stop the bus relatively smoothly, though I’m awfully glad we weren’t anywhere near a curve at the time. We all disembarked and waited at the side of the highway (in truth most of the passengers were in the middle of the road and it seems a minor miracle that one of them didn’t get hit by a passing vehicle). The bus employees set to work trying to replace the tire and a few of the passengers made feeble attempts to catch rides with passing buses or trucks. After a bit, the police arrived to direct traffic and the bus tire did finally get changed after an hour. All the other passengers were shuffled back on the bus to drive slowly to the next town. We, however, had special treatment. Valentina had told the police officer that the four of us were afraid of getting back on the bus and asked if we could ride with him. He obliged and I got the sense that some of the other passengers wished they had been in the police truck themselves. It wasn’t a foolish thing to be scared of riding in the bus more than we had to. As we were waiting for the tire to be changed, a couple Ecuadorians and I checked out other tires on the bus and there wasn’t a lot of tread left on any of them.

The bus in the dark. You can hardly see the headlights because of all the people standing around the bus.

When we arrived in the next town, only a short ways up the road, the bus let everyone back off because police officer wouldn’t allow the bus to continue. We thought this was appropriate and were glad that the police called another bus company to come and take the passengers to Quito. As this was all being sorted out, we (really Valentina and Juan) made contingency plans with a hotel down the street. Andrea and I were extremely grateful to be with the Uruguayan couple. We enjoyed their company and we would have had real difficulty understanding what was going on without their help in translating. Eventually, the new and much nicer bus arrived and we were on our way to Quito. The rest of the trip was uneventful (unless you count paying double the price for a taxi) and the four of us spent the night back at our old friend, Community Hostel.

Nights of sleep usually don’t bring particularly interesting stories, but I have to share one story from the night. Andrea and I had two of the bunks in a six bed dorm and Valentina and Juan were sharing a single bed in the same dorm because it was the only bed the hostel had left. Apparently another of our dorm mates had a birthday that day and she and a friend came in loudly in the wee hours of the morning after a night on the town. I had partially awaken when they tromped in, but was brought completely awake when one of the girls started making sounds like she was throwing up little bits in her mouth. It would have been gross with only that, but it was made worse by these little munching sounds that she made after each episode. It sounded like she was contentedly chewing her cud, which was in fact vomit. Sufficiently grossed out already, it reached a new level of disturbing when she let out a long fart, maybe 5 or 6 seconds long. It sounded so juicy that I guessed she would have to send the pants she was wearing into early retirement. At this point, I just had to look over at this person. She was a pretty large girl, collapsed flat on her face in bed, looking sort of like a beached whale that flopped onto shore. She started to climb out of bed and halfway down the ladder from her top bunk, she completely lost her footing and fell heavily the last couple feet on to the floor. The Korean-American gentlemen sleeping below her woke then and asked if she was alright; she mumbled that she was and scurried out, then proceeded to call pathetically to a friend in another room from the hallway for the next 30 minutes. Something like “Amah…Amah….Amah, I’m drunk as *$&#,” repeated over and over until I finally regained a blissful unconsciousness. I think my life has a new champion atop the list of worst first impressions ever.

Amazonia Days 3 and 4

On the third day of our jungle trip we started off the morning with a trip to one of the indigenous villages in the rainforest, an hour or so further down the river from our camp. There are five different tribes of indigenous people that live in the section of rainforest that we were in, and it is a fairly unique situation because the indigenous people have a great deal of control over what happens in their rainforest. I’ve not encountered many situations were the indigenous group truly maintains control over their lands the way that they seem to here. A good example is that all of the tourist lodges in the rainforest are on land leased month-to-month from the local people. That’s not to say that it’s always been this way or that it didn’t take a political fight for the indigenous to assert this sort of control, my understanding is that it did take quite a lot of work to get it arranged this way, but it seems like a uniquely positive arrangement now.

            When we arrived to the village, one of the local women spent an hour or so showing us how they make a sort of bread from the yucca plant. It was quite impressive. She hacked down a small yucca tree with a machete and we pulled up the roots, which look like long potatoes. She started the peeling with her machete and we finished peeling the outside covering by hand. Once we had the clean tubers, our group grated them on what looked like large cheese graters, and then sifted the rough product into a fine flour. At this point, the flour is still very wet, so the locals use a long strip of woven wood, maybe six inches by five feet long, to press out the water. Basically, the wet flour lies in the center and then the entire woven contraption is twisted and twisted with one end attached to the wall and the other to a large stick for leverage. An impressive amount of water comes pouring out and you’re then left with a dry flour. There’s just enough water left in the flour to allow it to stick together and make a very simple bread. They cook it on a large, flat iron plate over an open fire. After the local woman made a couple, she asked if anyone wanted to try, so I did. I found out that the key is getting the flour smoothed out and pressed to the right thickness before it cooks too much and loses its malleability. My first effort turned out a little thick, but very edible. I’d give it a B. We ate the Yucca bread with jam or mayonnaise and tuna. It’s a little bland but quite good. It had a texture and taste something like plain shredded wheat.

            After our snack we went to another small indigenous community where we had lunch and then listened to a shaman talk about his work. On the way, we made a quick stop to view a nocturnal species of monkeys resting high up in a nest that we’d have had no hope of seeing if the guide didn’t know it was there. During the visit with the shaman, Diego was very kind in translating for us once again. Essentially, the shaman is a sort of spiritual doctor, similar to that in many other indigenous cultures. The shaman told us that he studied with his grandfather and father (both also shamans) for many years (if I remember correctly, it was ~15 or 20) before he was allowed to “practice” on his own. A significant amount of the rituals the shaman performs are related to the use of a hallucinogenic plant called ayahuasca. He primarily uses the hallucinogen himself, but “patients” can also use it during some of the cleansing rituals. He showed us a short version of a cleansing ceremony that he might perform for an ill patient (with the hallucinogen). Lars asked him if there was any conflict with the Catholic church (which is far and away the dominant religion in Ecuador). I was surprised that the shaman stated that there was no conflict and that he, in fact, was Catholic himself. Interesting. We checked out a couple more local plants used by the natives and headed back to the lodge for supper.

            After our supper, we went out for a night hike, primarily to find insects that aren’t out during the day. We saw a few unique insects and being out in the jungle at night is an amazing experience just for the sounds and the immense vastness of the place, which is accentuated in the dark. However, the most interesting part of the hike again proved to be rain. It started pouring on us after about half of the planned hike and we hurried back to the canoe to head for home. The drenching rain made the already dark night even darker but, incredibly, our boat driver was able to bring us all the way back entirely without the use of light. The guy seemed to know every turn and log like the back of his hand. It was really, really, impressive. On the boat ride, we took off our ponchos and allowed ourselves to get completely drenched by the warm rain. FUN!

            On the morning of the fourth day, we were planning an early morning birdwatching session (similar to back home, many of the birds in the rainforest seem to like morning best), but we woke a little before six to the loud patter of rain on the roof. I don’t think a single person in our group bothered to even get out of bed to see if the birdwatching was still on. After the rainout, we had little else to do besides pack, eat some breakfast, and load back in the canoe for the two hour ride to a road. After two more hours on the road, we were back in Lago Agrio

Our whole group in the canoe. The lady with the baby was perhaps our guide's wife? The driver in the back is NOT the crazy one that abandoned us.

Amazon Days 1 & 2

Michael's second installment:

Hoatzin Bird

We saw quite a few interesting birds on the first excursion, including our first Hoatzin (pronounced watt-zeen), which is a strange looking bird that has apparently been around for a long time. The guide called it a prehistoric bird. The birds were fascinating, but the highlight of the animal search was seeing a GIANT anaconda resting in some of the shallow waters of the lake a little ways from our camp. At its largest, it appeared to be 8-10 inches in diameter and the guide thought that it was ~15 feet long, though we couldn’t tell for sure due to the murky water and the snake being coiled up.

Scales of the anaconda peaking above the surface

I was shocked by how close we got to it. Andrea and I were probably no more than 5 feet from the creature at one point, but apparently they only feed twice a year and they don’t really move much the rest of the time, particularly during the day. The guides didn’t seem concerned at all about being so close. I’ve never minded snakes much, but it took me a bit to adopt their unconcerned demeanor. To make it better, we finished off the night by taking a 10 minute swim in the lake only a couple hundred meters from the snake. It’s hard for me to imagine any business in the States having the gumption to take on that liability, even though it is apparently safe. We headed for camp, had a nice dinner, and enjoyed a long night’s sleep afterwards, since we hadn’t slept well on the overnight bus the night prior.

We started off our adventures on the second day in Amazonia with a morning hike. We planned to go a couple of hours out and then head back the same way, seeing what we could see along the way. We followed the plan with a notable modification that I’ll soon share.

Quinine Tree

Along our hike, we mostly looked at some of the different jungle plants.The guide showed us the tree that quinine comes from (which was used to treat malaria, until parasites in much of the world became resistant). We also saw the viney plant that curare comes from. Curare acts on the central nervous system to paralyze humans or animals. The local people used to use it for hunting to paralyze their prey, and it has been used medically in anesthesia as well. The guide also showed us how you could hit a particular species of giant trees with a large stick and it would make a sound that echoed for great distances. At one time, the indigenous people used this method as a way to communicate between villages.

Waiting in the rain at the edge of the lagoon where our boat should be

The hike was swell until we got back to our starting point and our boat driver had left with our canoe. We thought that there may have been some miscommunication or he had been needed elsewhere for some urgent reason, but we waited and waited and no one came. We ended up waiting for around two hours and it started absolutely pouring rain (as rainforests tend to do) about 15 minutes into the wait. It felt a little like an episode of Survivor or something and we had discussed what we’d have to do to hike back to the camp ourselves (our guide said it would have been around a 6 hour hike through the rainforest, but we were at least a little reassured by the fact that it was possible. Eventually the staff at our camp grew concerned that we weren’t back for lunch and came for us in another boat.
I don’t think anyone ever did find out where the boat driver went, but he was back at the camp later that evening and took us out for our evening fishing trip. (Apparently, the same fellow disappeared next day when he was supposed to take a group out for a shorter trip because he was convinced that he had Dengue fever and wanted to go the hospital even though he had no symptoms. At least he left them in camp instead of the middle of the rainforest. He was back again the next day, but I’d have to think that he got fired. I hope he finds a good psychiatrist).

Moving on, the evening fishing trip wasn’t your ordinary trip. We were going fishing for piranhas. We used basic stick and line poles with some beef loaded on the end. As you might guess, getting piranhas to nibble isn’t difficult. Andrea was the first to get a hook in one, but it wasn’t exactly caught. She pulled the pole up very quickly and the piranha took a little flight that didn’t end in the canoe. It was exciting to get our first look at one though. Eventually we caught around 10 of the little guys, including three different species: red, white, and silver. It was interesting having Lars, the fisheries professor with us. He pointed out some of the finer differences between them that I certainly wouldn’t have noticed on my own. He was pretty excited to examine the unique fish, which I suspect are quite different than those in the Great Lakes that he studies. I never did catch one of the little fellas. If you’re in the market for a fishing buddy, I’d take Andrea. She had much better luck.