I loved my time in Baños, but around Thanksgiving, I was starting to get that familiar, antsy, depressed feeling. My last day, I went to the pool and sunbathed and read the POWER OF NOW, a book I am trying to internalize on this trip, through words and actions. I had the thought that could stay there for another day and have a relaxed day, updating blogs, etc. Then I realized that I needed to stay focused on what I was doing NOW (hence, the outdated typoed posts on my blog...). I got a move on, checked out of my hotel, went on one last beautiful run in the mountains out towards the Volcano (lost near the “official” viewpoint, I sang to cows in an empty field. Gorgeous.), had a banana split for lunch, and hopped the next train to LATACUNGA.
In Latacunga, I was hoping to gain information and companions to hike the Quilatoa Loop. I had trepidation about locating either, but was handed and map and met two new friends before I could take off my backpack. Juli and Roger (Hoo-lee and Raj-ay, now affectionately known as “mis guapos”) are two goofily handsome firemen from Barcelona. They are Catalonians, and speak Catalán (NOT the same as Spanish). They immediately decided I was crazy and that that suited them perfectly. They were as eager to get English grammar help as I was to get Spanish grammar help. We headed out of ugly Latacunga for INSLIVI on the bus the next day.
The Hostal at Inslivi is called the Lulu Llama, and it was wonderful. With a living room full of hammocks, and attic full of plush beds, a flower garden, soaring views, a pig, a llama, a gaggle (?) of chickens, and a composting toilet room that was more like a greenhouse, I was in heaven. The five kids of the cook/caretaker were none too shy, and I was kept busy playing UNO, and supervising photoshoots and music lessons on the ukulele (for Juli as well).
The next morning, I was the navigator, as the directions were written in some advanced form of English. The weather was perfect. I yelled a modified version of my typical “happy yell”: “LOOKI
ATWHEREWELIVE!”, and Roger ever since took to mocking me with a modified rooster call (of which there are many here, and which start crying usually around 3:00am). The hike was supposed to take 6 hours, but we managed it in 3:15. Those firemen! At the start of the day, we were hiking on rough trails used mostly by rural farmers to access their farms. There was not a point in our hike when we could not see farms or livestock… the canyons were a constant patchwork, and we often entered and exited orchards, strode past horses tied up to graze, stepped aside for indigenous men driving cattle, and consulted women working the fields for directions (all were in traditional dress: shawl, flowered silken skirt to just below the knee, stockings, 1-inch heel shoes with closed, square toes, brimmed hat with a peacock feather, and a braid wrapped in a piece of fabric from the nape of the neck to just a couple inches from the end). The trail was not consistent, however. At times, the trail petered out into a barely worn spot of grass. Other times, we joined with terrifying narrow dirt roads busy with belligerant truck and bus drivers, or scampered up eroding shortcuts.
ATWHEREWELIVE!”, and Roger ever since took to mocking me with a modified rooster call (of which there are many here, and which start crying usually around 3:00am). The hike was supposed to take 6 hours, but we managed it in 3:15. Those firemen! At the start of the day, we were hiking on rough trails used mostly by rural farmers to access their farms. There was not a point in our hike when we could not see farms or livestock… the canyons were a constant patchwork, and we often entered and exited orchards, strode past horses tied up to graze, stepped aside for indigenous men driving cattle, and consulted women working the fields for directions (all were in traditional dress: shawl, flowered silken skirt to just below the knee, stockings, 1-inch heel shoes with closed, square toes, brimmed hat with a peacock feather, and a braid wrapped in a piece of fabric from the nape of the neck to just a couple inches from the end). The trail was not consistent, however. At times, the trail petered out into a barely worn spot of grass. Other times, we joined with terrifying narrow dirt roads busy with belligerant truck and bus drivers, or scampered up eroding shortcuts.
When we arrived in CHUGCHILAN we were covered in dust. While the boys stretched, I started jamming on my uke, practicing my new Andes tunes (now I have three: from Peru, Bolivia, and Ecuador). That night, I found myself invited to a jam sesh with some local musicians. I was implored to sing along as the resident rock star (David of Quito) played Radiohead, but I could only sing the melody, not the words. No one cared. I realized I could make up the words. Soon David and I were rocking out to acoustic System of a Down. Wow. The firemen long asleep, I had to call it a night, though the singing went on early into the morning.
The next day, we headed to Quilatoa to complete the circuit. Today´s hike included two big uphill trudges, up paths so heavily eroded in places, that there were twenty-foot walls no each side. I spent more of the day alone, the Catalonians hiking ahead. I didn´t mind. It was a beautiful day, with huge, fluffy clouds. The sizzling sun was offset by a nice breeze. And QUILATOA! The lake was embroidered with wind patches. The water was a tourquoise green, but the sky reflected peacock blue and white in places. We munched on Oreos and had a photosesh. We went down into the bowl and up the other side, making it to QUILATOA just in time to catch the last bus to LATACUNGA.
That very night, we made arrangements to make a summit attempt on COTOPAXI the next day, the second-highest mountain in Ecuador, and one of the highest active volcanoes in the world, at over 19,000 feet (though everything here is in meters, so I am forever unaware of what altitude I am at!). Jee Ro, a traveler I met from South Korea, joined us as my partner for the hike. The way it works is the guide advise that you hike or climb some peaks at a high altitude in advance- the Quilatoa loop, for example - then, in one day, you drive/hike to base camp, sleep for a few hours, then leave at 12:00 or 1:00 am to climb 6 or 7 hours to the summit. The mountain must be summitted at night because in the daylight, the snow and glaciers become unstable and unsafe, but at night they are solid enough to climb.
I set out with my guide, Julian, and my partner, Jee Ro at about 12:20. I had some trepidation about my guide and my equipment. My boots were not the best fit, and some of the clients of other agencies had equipment in much better shape, and had hiking poles and a helmet (while my guide had poles, I was using an ice ax like a walking stick... unnecessary, and annoying for a skier). While doing our "training" on how to hike up the mountain, my guide was needlessly impatient, yelling at me when I was not quick enough or when I didn´t learn after one time how to properly tie a knot. When I was putting on my harness to go, he slapped at my hands, telling me I was too slow, and, embarasssingly, proceeded to dress me in it.
Unfortunately, on the hike up, he was more aggressive, yelling at me the first time I wanted to stop to put more clothes on. I started to get really sick to my stomach. Julian suggested I make myself throw up on purpose, and I did, but I didn´t feel much better. Jeero, who had not done anything to acclimatize, was coughing and breathing hard, though he never asked for a break. I was feeling very uncomfortable with the whole situation; we were strapped together in a rope team hiking over the glacier, but had received no training from Mr. Impatient as to how to conduct ourselves. My breathing was fine, but I was feeling more naseous than ever as we took slow steps through the snow. When I asked for a break, and Julian immediately started aggressively yelling at us to get off of the trail (there was no one close behind us), I realized I was not having fun and did not feel safe. I told Julian I wanted to go down. He led us down, 100 meters ahead with his typical impatience, and went straight to sleep without checking on me. I was so sick at this point, I couldn´t drink anything. After two hours of sleep, I vomited up everything from the last 24 hours. I had to ask a different guide for assistance to get to a lower altitude where I could wait for the Catalonians.
In the end, only four people summitted that day anyway, due to treacherous conditions at the top; my Catalonian friends, their guide, and an Alaskan climbing guide down in Ecuador on vacation. Every other team (about 25 people) turned back.
Coming out of this experience, I am proud of myself from turning around. I feel that through this "failure" I have learned a lot. I was again in a situation where only my own judgement would suffice to keep me safe. My own ego could´ve easily gotten in the way of the right decision; I have many friends who are accomplished mountaineers, and I find myself, at times, coveting their skills and lifestyle. Also, plenty of people climb Cotopaxi without mountaineering experience - this was my chance to summit at 19,000 foot peak! However, when it came down to it, I was not having fun, I was feeling very very bad, my partner was not acclimated (and I guess I wasn´t either), and no one was looking out for my best interests. Without disappointment, at 5,200 meters, I told my guide, "I don´t feel good and I want to go down."He actually tried to argue with me (trying to keep his record up), but I stood very firm. Even if this is the only chance I ever get to climb a 19,000 foot peak, (which, with a little audacity on my part, is certainly not likely) my failure has not upset me. I have other talents and accomplishments, both athletic and not athletic (such as learning Spanish and playing uke!) that are way more important to me and who I am. Oh, and my health. I like that, too!
In the end, we think it may have been food poisoning (see photo below), if not just overeating (I lose weight like crazy at altitude, and for some reason, I forced myself to eat when i probably shouldn´t have). I spent a day in ugly LATACUNGA recooperating, and actually managed, with my Spanish but mostly with my strong oral argument skills, to get back $70 worth of the money I paid for Cotopaxi - more than what the guide was paid. AND he has to write an apology... we´ll see if I ever see that. The people who work at the hostel I stayed at agreed with my character assessment of the guy, though the agency kept trying to convince me that "he has a great summit record"... that was not what I was worried about.
Departing from LATACUNGA, after 13 hours of bus rides, it was on to CANOA, here on the coast. I will post on this wonderful place soon!
That very night, we made arrangements to make a summit attempt on COTOPAXI the next day, the second-highest mountain in Ecuador, and one of the highest active volcanoes in the world, at over 19,000 feet (though everything here is in meters, so I am forever unaware of what altitude I am at!). Jee Ro, a traveler I met from South Korea, joined us as my partner for the hike. The way it works is the guide advise that you hike or climb some peaks at a high altitude in advance- the Quilatoa loop, for example - then, in one day, you drive/hike to base camp, sleep for a few hours, then leave at 12:00 or 1:00 am to climb 6 or 7 hours to the summit. The mountain must be summitted at night because in the daylight, the snow and glaciers become unstable and unsafe, but at night they are solid enough to climb.
I set out with my guide, Julian, and my partner, Jee Ro at about 12:20. I had some trepidation about my guide and my equipment. My boots were not the best fit, and some of the clients of other agencies had equipment in much better shape, and had hiking poles and a helmet (while my guide had poles, I was using an ice ax like a walking stick... unnecessary, and annoying for a skier). While doing our "training" on how to hike up the mountain, my guide was needlessly impatient, yelling at me when I was not quick enough or when I didn´t learn after one time how to properly tie a knot. When I was putting on my harness to go, he slapped at my hands, telling me I was too slow, and, embarasssingly, proceeded to dress me in it.
Unfortunately, on the hike up, he was more aggressive, yelling at me the first time I wanted to stop to put more clothes on. I started to get really sick to my stomach. Julian suggested I make myself throw up on purpose, and I did, but I didn´t feel much better. Jeero, who had not done anything to acclimatize, was coughing and breathing hard, though he never asked for a break. I was feeling very uncomfortable with the whole situation; we were strapped together in a rope team hiking over the glacier, but had received no training from Mr. Impatient as to how to conduct ourselves. My breathing was fine, but I was feeling more naseous than ever as we took slow steps through the snow. When I asked for a break, and Julian immediately started aggressively yelling at us to get off of the trail (there was no one close behind us), I realized I was not having fun and did not feel safe. I told Julian I wanted to go down. He led us down, 100 meters ahead with his typical impatience, and went straight to sleep without checking on me. I was so sick at this point, I couldn´t drink anything. After two hours of sleep, I vomited up everything from the last 24 hours. I had to ask a different guide for assistance to get to a lower altitude where I could wait for the Catalonians.
In the end, only four people summitted that day anyway, due to treacherous conditions at the top; my Catalonian friends, their guide, and an Alaskan climbing guide down in Ecuador on vacation. Every other team (about 25 people) turned back.
Coming out of this experience, I am proud of myself from turning around. I feel that through this "failure" I have learned a lot. I was again in a situation where only my own judgement would suffice to keep me safe. My own ego could´ve easily gotten in the way of the right decision; I have many friends who are accomplished mountaineers, and I find myself, at times, coveting their skills and lifestyle. Also, plenty of people climb Cotopaxi without mountaineering experience - this was my chance to summit at 19,000 foot peak! However, when it came down to it, I was not having fun, I was feeling very very bad, my partner was not acclimated (and I guess I wasn´t either), and no one was looking out for my best interests. Without disappointment, at 5,200 meters, I told my guide, "I don´t feel good and I want to go down."He actually tried to argue with me (trying to keep his record up), but I stood very firm. Even if this is the only chance I ever get to climb a 19,000 foot peak, (which, with a little audacity on my part, is certainly not likely) my failure has not upset me. I have other talents and accomplishments, both athletic and not athletic (such as learning Spanish and playing uke!) that are way more important to me and who I am. Oh, and my health. I like that, too!
In the end, we think it may have been food poisoning (see photo below), if not just overeating (I lose weight like crazy at altitude, and for some reason, I forced myself to eat when i probably shouldn´t have). I spent a day in ugly LATACUNGA recooperating, and actually managed, with my Spanish but mostly with my strong oral argument skills, to get back $70 worth of the money I paid for Cotopaxi - more than what the guide was paid. AND he has to write an apology... we´ll see if I ever see that. The people who work at the hostel I stayed at agreed with my character assessment of the guy, though the agency kept trying to convince me that "he has a great summit record"... that was not what I was worried about.
Departing from LATACUNGA, after 13 hours of bus rides, it was on to CANOA, here on the coast. I will post on this wonderful place soon!
The piscina.
Idyllic hiking above Baños.. it is so impossible to choose just a few pictures!
Saturday market in Latacunga: This is why the city smells like a slaughterhouse
Bus to Inslivi
Making myself at home at the Lulu Llama
So one of the workers at the Lulu Llama spoke Catalán... random.
The boys talked and I played some mad uke.
Eucalyptus trees!
Roger. The castle thing is a crumbling church, that is benig fixed up.
Juli is a bit unsure of what to do with the American on his arm.
The authors of the major Jam sesh (not pictured: our audience of 15 locals. super chill.)
Clouds and the farms.
A very new hut. Trees are often burned here to make way for farmland. They also make good huts.
These areas are rural but often not very wild.
So, at some point, trucks drove on this road. Maybe erosion is a problem because there are no trees?
I haven´t really talked with anyone about this.
The beautiful Quilatoa crater lake.
Mis Guapos
Possible sources of food poisoning: a warm whipped eggwhite and berry dish (thought it was icecream when I bought it from a Catholic nun, but ate it anyway), and a mix of street food that included some very mysterious animal parts (I found the palette of a cow, I believe, and some other unmentionables)
Lobos up at Cotopaxi base camp
Julian´s boots
Jee Ro, ever-nice guy!
Sunrise just after puking up everything I´d eaten in the last 24 hours.
Cotopaxi, the mountain that taught me about self-respect. And graffitti rock. Gotta have one of those in Ecuador.
!the poisoning! What an epic journey with epic scenery and people. Also, you have got some mad photo skills.
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