As my time in Ecuador grew to a close I vacillated over the best way to make the border crossing into Peru. Although it was possible to take a bus directly south from Cuenca to Peru, the trip would have required an eight to ten-hours bus ride to Zumba, changing to a Chiva (open sided bus) for the ride to the border town of La Balsa, a stop at the immigration offices to get stamped out of Ecuador, and finally a 2.5 hour ride in a colectivo (local pick-up truck with bench seats) to the town of San Ignacio. At that point I would still be on the eastern side of Peru, far from my intended destination on the coast; that route simply did not make sense for me.

Instead I opted to do something I almost never do: I retraced my steps to Guayaquil, where my Ecuadorian journey had begun nearly two months earlier, in order to make the border crossing between Huaquillas, Ecuador and Tumbes, Peru. However, this much faster and more convenient route would also have its challenges; I had read repeated warnings about thugs and scam artists who prey on tourists who try to do the crossing on their own, such as this couple who got help up for $114 dollars by their “guides,” who threatened to leave them stranded midway into the journey.  As a solo female traveler, I wasn’t willing to take that risk.

Fortunately, I had met Karina Gonzales, a lovely young schoolteacher from Lima, during my earlier visit to Guayaquil. We became instant friends and upon returning to Peru she sent me a suggested itinerary of the best places to visit in her country, as well as contact information for Maikol, the guide she uses to cross the border whenever she comes to Ecuador.

My guide Maikol, who handled the border crossing for $12

Maikol was wonderful! He met me in the Ecuadorian border town of Huaquillas and arranged for a taxi to take us to the Immigration office, where I got stamped out of Ecuador. Strangely, the Immigration office is three kilometers (1.8 miles) away from the border, so once I had been stamped out, he hailed a second taxi to carry us to the International Peace Bridge, which marks the border between Ecuador and Peru. We walked across the long bridge, weaving in and out of the heavy pedestrian traffic and fending off vendors hawking from booths that lined both sides of the long bridge. There was no doubt in my mind that pickpocket attempts and opportunistic crimes are common in this environment and I was doubly glad to have Maikol at my side.

At the end of the bridge I gratefully climbed into his car and we drove three kilometers to the Immigration office in Zarumilla, where I was stamped into Peru and got my 90-day visa on arrival. Again, I said a silent thanks for Maikol. Had I made the crossing alone, I would have been at the mercy of whomever I could find to drive me to Peruvian Immigration. With all the formalities completed. I hopped back into his car for the 27 kilometer (16 mile) trip to Tumbes.

Church on the central plaza in Tumbes, Peru

As we drove south, Maikol explained how a government irrigation project had transformed the coastal plain from a giant sandbox into an agricultural Garden of Eden where fields of white and green asparagus stretched as far as the eye could see. Upon arriving in Tumbes, he helped me find an ATM where I could get Peruvian Soles, gave me a brief walking tour around the pretty central plaza, and then dropped me at the street corner where vans leave every 20 minutes for Máncora, my ultimate destination. For all this, he charged a mere $12.

No only did Maikol provide me with door-to-door service for a very reasonable price, he saved me money in the process. Transport is available between Huaquillas and Tumbes, and to the immigration offices on both sides of the border, but taxis, porters and even border guards will try to take advantage of you. For instance, the taxis Maikol hailed each charged $2, yet foreigners who are not accompanied by a guide are often charged up to $5. To arrange for Maikol’s services, phone him at 972-817564 (country code 51). Tell him that Barbara, the travel writer sent you.

Step-by-step instructions for crossing the border from Huaquillas, Ecuador to Tumbes, Peru, beginning in Cuenca:

• From Cuenca, take an SUV to Guayaquil with the company EcuaVan. The three hour trip costs $15 per person and takes you through stunning Cajas National Park. The company is located in the Astodillo building (edificio Astodillo) on Avenues Ordóñez Lazo and Guyacan (Avenida Ordóñez Lazo y Guayacan). Telephone: (07) 2887211 or 2846463; Cell: 080 086 197.
• Stay overnight in Guayaquil. I highly recommend Manso Boutique Hostal, which is well-located on the Malecon, in a safe neighborhood. Private rooms with shared baths are $36 per night; private rooms with ensuite baths begin at $57 per night, and four bed dorms are available for $9.50 per night. Priced do not include 22% tax and service charges, but do include a great breakfast. Manso also serves lunch and dinner in their restaurant, and the food is quite good. Book through their website (only available on the Spanish version) or call (04) 252-6644 (country code 593).
• After checking in to your accommodations for the night, walk to Transfrosur, the company that provides transport from Guayaquil to Huaquillas. Their offices are located at 616 Calle Chile, between 10 de Agosto and Sucre. If staying at Manso, the office is just four blocks away, half a block from the “Iguana Park.” Make a reservation for the following morning. Vans leave every hour, beginning early in the morning, through mid-afternoon. The cost is $13.50 per person and the trip takes four hours. Phone: 042-326387 or 042-530945 (country code 593). Once you’ve made your reservation, call Maikol with your departure time and make sure you ask him to meet you at the Transfrosur office in Huaquillas.
• Upon arrival, allow Maikol to arrange for a taxi to the Ecuadorian Immigration office to get stamped out of Ecuador. Taxi should cost $2. Make sure the immigration official has stamped your passport before leaving the office.
• Maikol will arrange for a second taxi to take you to the International Peace Bridge at the border with Peru. Taxi should cost $2.
• Walk across the bridge to Maikol’s car, he will drive you to Peru Immigration and walk you through the process of obtaining your visa on arrival. No fees should be involved.
• Maikol will drive you to Tumbes. Total cost for his services: $12.
• If you are continuing on to Máncora, the van ride will be an additional two hours.

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Gravel spit from beneath the van’s wheels as we climbed into mountains erupting with picture-postcard spring colors. Though I enjoyed my time in Cuenca, it had been difficult to connect with the local culture in a city of half a million people, so I had opted for a day tour to explore tiny towns in the surrounding countryside. We crested a hill and rolled down into a verdant valley, where terra-cotta roofed houses clustered around the stately white church. With its dilapidated homes and stray dogs, San Bartolomé would have been unremarkable except for the sculptures in the main plaza; rather than requisite religious statuary, giant guitars paraded across the plaza toward the church, hinting that something about this town was very different.

Heritage of guitar making in San Bartolomé is memorialized by sculptures on main square of town

Many rural towns scattered across Ecuador still adhere to the “guild system” inherited from Spain, where each community specializes in a particular craft. My travels had taken me to towns where giant round loaves of bread were stacked in every storefront window; to villages that produced incense, soaps, and oils from the fragrant wood of Palo Santo trees; and to still others that specialized in pottery and leather goods, but the hills around Cuenca may be home to the most interesting artisan traditions in the country and San Bartolomé is the gem in the collection.

Custom inlaid guitars, handmade by Jose Uyaguari in San Bartolome, Ecuador

In the foothills just above the town’s main plaza, we climbed out of the van at the home of master craftsman Jose Uyaguari. The tools of his trade were spread across a rough wooden table set up in his front patio: two long silver wood planes, chisels, awls, and a giant tub of glue. Using exotic woods such as Capuli and African Ebony, Uyaguari fashions some of the world’s finest guitars without using a single nail, then adorns them with intricate inlays painstakingly pieced together from tiny bits of multi-colored wood shavings. His customers are said to include famous artists such as Freddy Fender and Judy Collins, and though he wouldn’t confirm this, Uyaguari did acknowledge that musicians come from all over the world to buy his instruments, which are priced from $75 to $1,000. Perhaps most astonishing, Uyaguari cannot play a note!

Making silver filigree jewelry in Chordeleg, Ecuador

Next up was the town of Chordeleg, famous for its jewelry, where silversmith Jorge walked us through the art of crafting exquisite filigree earrings, rings, and necklaces. He fed a silver ingot into a rolling mill, allowing it to flatten and extrude with each repeated pass, until it took the shape of a rough wire. This was further rolled out by hand on an anvil until it became a delicate flexible strand. With awl and tweezers, Jorge deftly twisted the silver into a series intricate figure eights, which were dusted with silver powder and melded together with a soldering torch. Each piece is unique and is priced according to the difficulty of design and weight of the silver; I purchased a pair of silver dangle earrings for $15. Jorge’s affordable prices are undoubtedly due to low overhead (his shop is in his home and the silver is sourced from mines in the nearby hills that are still worked by independent miners), but later when we stopped for lunch in central Chordeleg I realized what a bargain I had gotten. Scores of jewelry stores lined the central plaza and not one offered a similar pair for less than $50.

Miniature ceramic folkloric figurines from Chordeleg, Ecuador

On the other side of Chordeleg, the Fernando family was busy making miniature ceramic folkloric figurines. Using special clay imported from the jungle, the body and limbs of a figure were rolled out and cut to the appropriate length, and a ball was hand-carved into a face. The painstaking process of making the face by hand limited production to 20 figurines per day, a number far less than the demand, prompting Mr. Fernando to develop a face mold that now allows the family to increase production to 100 per day. Still, the family cannot fill all the orders they receive. A full set of traditional musicians (8-10 figurines) costs $12 to $15.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-kVSaAnHXNE

Can’t view the above video of the artisan villages in the mountains around Cuenca, Ecuador? Click here.

Our final stop of the afternoon was Gualaceo. Following a visit to the town’s extensive fruit and vegetable market, where we sampled unfamiliar fruits like Guaba, we were off to visit weavers who produce startlingly beautiful scarves and shawls from local wool. From raising the sheep to weaving the finished products, everything in this operation is done by hand. Wool is gathered, carded and spun, then formed into long strands that are knotted at intervals. These strands are dipped into brilliant dyes made from natural ingredients that color the wool wherever there are no knots. After drying, the knots are removed to reveal a striking two-tone pattern that is then used to weave the final product on old-fashioned wooden looms.

Can’t view the above slide show of artisan villages near Cuenca, Ecuador? Click here.

As Ecuador becomes more developed, fewer people are interested in learning these ancient arts. According to our guide, only two traditional sheep’s wool weavers remain in the entire country and, although Mr. Fernando’s children hope to become part of the business when they complete school, no one outside the family seems to want to learn how to make ceramic figurines. The day will likely come when all these items are mass produced in factories, but for the moment Ecuador is a veritable treasure trove of “guild towns” and unique handcrafted items.

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By the time I arrived in Cuenca I was stressed out and beaten down. Though rewarding, traveling through Ecuador had not been easy. I’d been seasick during my spectacular cruise with Ecoventura in the Galapagos Islands; sweaty and smelly in the Amazon jungle at Cuyabeno Lodge; and sardined into a bus full of Ecuadorians, where a mother and her young son crammed into a single seat next to me for the entire three-hour ride to Chugchilan. I had a severe bout of altitude sickness while attempting to hike parts of the Quilotoa Loop and been targeted by thugs in Quito who’d unsuccessfully tried to steal my backpack. I needed a rest.

Fortunately, I had a plan for making Cuenca seem more like home. Shortly after arriving in Mexico in 2010 I received a comment on my blog from Nancy and Paul Dardarian, American expats who had moved to Mazatlan some years earlier and subsequently launched the popular expat travel blog Countdown to Mexico. We met for a leisurely lunch at an oceanfront palapa and I got the benefit of all their knowledge about Mazatlan. When Nancy and Paul wrote about our meeting, several of their followers became followers of my blog as well. Among them was Ken Smith, an American expat living in Lake Chapala, Mexico. Ken had been “lurking” around my bog for a while but when he learned I was Cuenca bound he contacted me and suggested I get in touch with a friend of his, Regina Potenza, yet another American expat who lived for more than 20 years in Lake Chapala but had moved to Cuenca a couple years earlier. It is indeed a small world.

Meeting up with expats for Sunday Football at the Inca Cafe

Regina and I exchanged emails and she suggested I stay at the Hotel Milan, which turned out to be a wonderful family-owned hotel in the middle of downtown, affordably priced at only $17 per night for a private room with private bath. But this was just the beginning. I’d barely arrived when Regina phoned with an invitation to meet up with other expats at the regular Tuesday evening get-together at DiBacco Italian Restaurant, which is half-owned by another American expat, John Buskey (excellent food, by the way).

Over the next week, Regina and others among the expat community welcomed me into their fold to such a degree that it felt like instant family. I joined them for Sunday football at the Inca Lounge, tagged along on a furniture shopping expedition, and attended their writer’s group reading one evening. They made sure I knew which attractions were worth the price of admission and which should be skipped; which areas of the city were safe to walk alone at night and which should be avoided; and what nearby artisan towns were worth a visit. Perhaps the best tip of all came from Regina herself, when she told me not to miss the free museum inside the Banco Central, which has an astonishing and thorough display about the various cultures of Ecuador, and the adjacent Pumapungo ruins.

Can’t view the above slide show about Cuenca, Ecuador? Click here.

I was having such a good time that I didn’t want to leave. My initial three days in Cuenca stretched to five and then to seven, but by the end of the week I really needed to get back on the road; I had wandered around Ecuador for nearly two months and was due back in the States to visit my family over the Christmas holiday, leaving barely a month to travel though Peru. But my new friends were having none of that. Barbie DiPalma and John Vitale made me an offer I just couldn’t refuse: they invited me enjoy Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings in their home with a few of the other expats I had already met. And if I stayed, Regina added, I could walk in the First Annual Cuenca Turkey Trot, a two-mile race along the Tomebamba River to benefit Fundacion El Arenal, an after-school program for at-risk kids who work long hours beside their parents at the largest produce and meat market in town.

Signup at the First Annual Cuenca Turkey Trot, Thanksgiving Day, 2011

Stretching before the Turkey Trot

Fundacion El Arenal, an after-school program for at-risk kids, is the beneficiary of the Turkey Trot proceeds

And we're off! After a two-mile walk/trot, we reward ourselves with pastries at a local cafe

Luckily, as a perpetual traveler I have no concrete schedule. Each time I added a few more days to my stay the owners of Hotel Milan smiled and nodded knowingly; it seems many visitors get “sticky feet” in Cuenca. What’s another two days, anyway? So, early Thanksgiving morning I put on my jogging duds, walked down to the starting point for the Turkey Trot, and paid my $3 entry fee. I hot-footed it to half-way point and “kissed the bridge” before reversing direction to our ending point, the Kookaburra Cafe, where we stuffed our faces with coffee and delish pastries. A couple hours later I was schmoozing with the expats and stuffing my face from the mouth-watering Thanksgiving spread laid out by John & Barbie (see Regina’s photo album for the day, which has a couple of largely unattractive photos of me, here).

I did finally depart the following morning. For many, Cuenca is the ideal place to retire overseas. Food is incredibly cheap and fresh organic fruit and vegetables are abundant; gas is only $1.50 per gallon; the city is quite safe and clean; there are sufficient cultural activities available; and the Ecuadorian government and people are welcoming to expats, thus it is fairly easy to gain permanent residency. But Cuenca is not quite the paradise I seek; at an elevation of 8,400 feet, the evening temperatures are just too chilly and I know the clouds that roll in every afternoon would eventually begin to depress me. I learned long ago that paradise on earth doesn’t exist, but Cuenca is close…very close.

Cuenca Vacations

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High in the Andes Mountains, at the point where the Guasuntos and Chanchán Rivers meet, a gigantic rock known as El Nido del Condor (Nest of the Condor) soars more than 6,200 feet. I sat atop this massif, safely ensconced in a leather seat on board what has been dubbed “the most difficult railroad in the world,” acutely aware that I owed my comfort to those who had perished in its construction. As the vintage diesel locomotive chugged slowly down the steep slope, belching black smoke and causing my wooden carraige to rock to and fro in time with the clickety-clack wheels, my thoughts turned to the reasons this famous ride is named “La Nariz del Diablo,” the Nose of the Devil.

The train makes a brief stop after descending the Nariz del Diablo for photo ops of the zig-zag tracks that slice the nearly vertical rock outcropping

Construction of the line between the southern coast and Quito began in 1871 in the lowlands near Guayaquil but three years later, only 7.6 miles had been completed. Plagued with theft of construction materials, lack of funding, political bickering, debilitating tropical diseases, floods and landslides, efforts were finally abandoned in 1888 with only 65 miles completed. Ten years later, Ecuador turned to the United States for help. Brothers John and Archer Harman were hired and work resumed. Mile after backbreaking mile was slowly completed until the line reached El Nido del Condor. In two miles, the train would need to ascend more than 5,700 feet but unlike the majestic birds for which the monolithic rock is named, trains could not sprout wings and fly down its face.

Can’t view the above slide show about the Nariz del Diablo (Nose of the Devil) Train ride in Alausi, Ecuador? Click here.

The solution was a unique zig-zag track design that allows trains to climb the steep grade as far as possible to a terminus, reverse direction and back up a subsequent section of track to a second terminus, then move forward again on a final section of ascending tracks. Hundreds of Jamaican slaves who were brought in to dynamite the hard rock lost their lives in the process; they, along with scores who succumbed to malaria, yellow fever, and poisonous snakes remain entombed in the rubble along the route, earning it the nickname La Nariz del Diablo by the time it finally opened between the coast and Alausi in 1901. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XmYYTZHdMCE

Can’t view the above YouTube video of riding the Nariz del Diablo Train in Alausi, Ecuador? Click here.

We chugged to a stop at the foot of the Nose of the Devil for a look back at the nearly vertical wall we had just descended. Tracks cut diagonally into the side of the mountain grinned down on us diabolically. A few minutes further down the line we reached our final destination, Sibambe, where we stopped for lunch. I lagged behind the other passengers, preferring instead to watch the locomotive uncouple and switch to the other end of the train in preparation for our return trip before visiting the excellent displays on indigenous Quechua/Kichua culture at the Cóndor Puñuna Museum and enjoying a performance of traditional dances. Too soon, the train whistle signaled our departure and I climbed aboard for the return to Alausi.

Though the tracks continue south, the floods of 1997-98 washed out sections and the railroad today ends in Sibambe. Ecuador’s President Correa recently committed to repair the tracks by 2013, bringing back the heyday of railroad travel, when passengers could ride from Quito to Guayaquil. In the meantime, taking the three hour round-trip down the Devil’s Nose is well worth the time. After all, it’s the journey that counts, not the destination.

Indigenous Quichua teach tourists traditional dance steps at the Sibambe station

How to Ride the Nariz del Diablo Train

Round-trip tickets for the Alausi-Sibambe-Alausi route are $20 and can be purchased at any of the train offices that are maintained in major tourist spots around Ecuador, or by calling 1-800-TRENES (873637). There is also a Tren Ecuador office on the corner of Eloy Alfaro and Sucre in Alausi; be sure to go in the morning as it sometimes closes at 2 p.m.  Breakfast/lunch at the Train Cafe in Sibambe is included in the price, as is entrance to the on-site museum.

Most of the scenery is on the right-hand side of the train. Though passengers are asked to switch sides on the return trip so that everyone will see the best scenery, I strongly suggest asking for a right-hand seat, since the skies and valleys often cloud up later in the day. Currently the Nariz del Diablo route operates Tuesday through Sunday and holidays, with departures at 8 a.m., 11 a.m., and 3 p.m. If intending to travel in high season, it is a good idea to make advance reservations, as the trains often fill up a week in advance. In past years, passengers were allowed to ride on top of the train, however a few years ago two Japanese passengers were decapitated while riding atop and since that time riding on top has been prohibited.

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The pickup truck squealed to a stop in front of me and six suit-clad men scrambled out of the open bed. A tall, thin, mustachioed man held out his hand. “Bienvenidos a Ecuador,” he said. Welcome to Ecuador. Surprised, I looked around and realized I was the only white face on the street; it was obvious that I was a tourist. He pumped my hand and smiled broadly, his brilliant white teeth gleaming in the light streaming from the school gymnasium in front of which we stood. I had previously peeked into the gym, where thousands of indigenous Quichua were seated in the bleachers, but had hesitated to enter because I had no idea if I would be welcome. “Where are you from?” He asked. “The United States,” I answered. “Please, I invite you to be our honored guest tonight. We are celebrating the Independence of our town.”

Booming tunes of the Cristiana Cristo Rey Band lured me to the entrance of the gymnasium where Quichua celebrated Independence Day

The city fathers escorted me to a seat in the second row of plastic folding chairs set up on on the main floor. Music boomed from giant speakers and the room erupted in song. I stood and clapped along, marveling at the passionate faith and the brilliantly colored Quichua costumes on display. Green skirts were topped by pink capes, orange over maroon, red and turquoise; hats and long stockings in contrasting colors completed the traditional ensembles. Groups of Quichua women, each from a different sector within the canton of Alausi, shyly walked to the front of the room, stood shoulder-to-shoulder and recited a biblical verse in their sing-song Kichua language. Their testimony was followed by a song of worship, performed as they rocked to and fro in unison.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IgocIbvOrDs

Can’t view the above YouTube video of indigenous Quichua performing at the Independence Day celebrations in Alausi, Ecuador? Click here.

Four hours later, having been introduced as an honored guest, serenaded by a male solo vocalist, and gifted with christian music CD’s, I finally begged off. At midnight, the celebrations were still going strong but I had to return to my guest house before it was locked down for the night. I thanked my hosts profusely for providing me with a unique opportunity to witness Quichua culture up close, cognizant that I had seen in one night what might otherwise have taken months of travel throughout Ecuador.

Latacunga Vacations

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In 1999, the volcano that towers over the small mountain town of Baños de Agua Santa in central Ecuador again began living up to its name. Seventy-four years after its last eruption, Tungurahua, which means “Throat of Fire” in the indigenous Quichua language, roared to life with a vengeance that required a complete evacuation of Baños for more than a year. Since then it has erupted more or less regularly (see some stunning images of activity in recent years here), but when I arrived last November it had been quiet since April 2011. I gazed up at the 16,000+ foot summit, trying to imagine molten rocks and large clouds of gas and ash spewing from its maw, but its verdant green flanks seemed more gentle giant than sleeping giant.

Luna Runtun Resort, located near the summit of Tunguruhua, lies in the path of the current lava flows

Ironically, this “Throat of Fire” spawns magnificent waterfalls that are yin to its yang. In the absence of displays of molten fireworks, I boarded a double-decker bus for a tour of the spectacular Route of Waterfalls, many of which cascaded off cliffs in torrents that made me believe they had extinguished the fire breathing dragon:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I7FUZ4EE9zQ

Can’t view the above YouTube video of the Route of Waterfalls in Baños, Ecuador? Click here.

On November 26, 2011, the day after I left Ecuador, Tungurahua awoke from its brief slumber and began belching molten lava down its flanks and spewing ash into the air. Today the volcano remains in an almost permanent state of activity, with daily incandescent flows and violent explosions. Ash fall has covered the the streets, parks, terraces and roofs of buildings in the greater Baños area, forcing the closure of schools and businesses; ten explosions and 48 emission tremors were reported on December 7th alone. As if they could forget, Tungurahua continues to remind Baños residents that not even their prolific waterfalls can quench the Throat of Fire.

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Still ragged from my bout with altitude sickness in Chugchilan, Ecuador, I dragged my weary bones off the bus and headed directly for my hostel when I arrived in Baños de la Santa. My intention was to climb right into bed and sleep through the afternoon and night but the sight of a spectacular waterfall behind the hostel got the better of my curiosity. I turned the corner at the end of the block and came face-to-face with a long ribbon of cotton candy cascading down the flanks of Tungurahua volcano, at the foot of which squatted the reason thousands of visitors flock to this tiny village in the Andes Mountains: Piscinas de la Virgen, the most famous of the town’s five thermal pools.

Waterfall cascades down mountainside and is channeled into Termas de la Virgen thermal baths

I had specifically come to Baños for its hot springs, which range from 64 to 131 degrees Fahrenheit and are reputed to have healing properties. Hoping for relief from debilitating knee and hip pain that had plagued me ever since sustaining an injury in a Yoga class in Mexico nearly two years earlier, I planned long soaks in the curative waters. Cautiously, I climbed the slick, spray-soaked rock steps leading to the top of the icy waterfall and stepped onto a viewing platform. Baños spread before me, backed by lushly carpeted mountains that shimmered like emeralds in the golden late afternoon sun. Directly beneath me lay the swimming pools of Termas de la Virgen, filled with water heated by molten lava deep within the active volcano.

Largest pool at the thermal baths has medium-hot water from the volcano

The following morning, I retraced my steps just as the sun was cresting the surrounding hills, paid my $1.50 entrance fee and took the required shower before using the facilities. Though I had my pick of baths scattered around the town and surrounding valley, I opted for Termas de la Virgen, not only because it is the most famous but also because it is popular with local Ecuadorians. Choosing the hottest of the three swimming pools on the top floor, I eased into the ocher-colored water up to my chin and closed my eyes, allowing the super-heated water to work its magic. Believing that mineral waters can heal maladies is not a stretch for me; I theorize that if Epsom Salts (magnesium sulfate crystals) provide relief from stiffness and sore muscles when dissolved in bath water, thermal springs that contain naturally occurring chlorates, sulfates and magnesium must have even better efficacy. Indeed, within minutes my tight muscles began to unwind. I rested my neck on the concrete lip of the pool and let my body float effortlessly, enjoying a blissful state of relaxation.

Termas de la Virgen is the thermal baths most popular with the locals, but they welcome visitors with friendly waves. The pool on the right is medium hot, while the one on the left is hot hot.

The pools soon began to fill up and I spent the rest of the day chatting with locals who had traveled from all over Ecuador to enjoy the healing waters, learning about life in this tiny country and polishing up my Spanish. Everyone was amazingly friendly and only too happy to pose for photos when I hopped out and grabbed my camera. By afternoon the stress of perpetual travel had been washed away, leaving me refreshed enough to walk several miles around town and up into the hills.

Can’t view the above slideshow about Banos, Ecuador? Click here.

Delighted that some of my pain had abated, I returned to Piscinas de la Virgen two days later to try out their hottest bath, a small pool on the first floor that is only open after 6 p.m. because its water is too hot to stand while the sun is shining. I hopped in without first testing the temperature and howled. The volcanically heated water gushes from the bowels of the earth at a scorching 122 degrees and it cools only four degrees by the time it reaches this smallest pool. Almost immediately I became light-headed from the heat and had to sit on the edge to cool down. Over the next hour I alternately plunged in and jumped out each time the heat got the better of me.

During one of these cool-down periods I noticed that others bathers were alternating between the hot pool and a small spa a few feet away, which I learned was a plunge pool filled with ice cold water piped directly from the waterfall. I’m not a fan of cold – be it weather, water, or icing sore muscles – but I decided to give it a try; perhaps it would allow me to stay submerged in the hot water for longer periods. I tested with my big toe and immediately yanked it out; they weren’t kidding when they said it was icy. Taking a deep breath, I lowered myself via the steel ladder, wincing with every step, but when the frigid water reached my knees I fled. Back in the hot pool, every square inch of skin that had been in contact with the ice cold water tingled like it was being pricked with a million tiny needles. Blood rushed to my skin and my knee and hip literally vibrated. The next time I grew overheated, I immersed in the cold water up to my waist. By the end of the night I was submerging in the cold pool up to my chin for two to three minutes at a time.

Banos, Ecuador as viewed from the flanks of the active Tungurahua volcano

The next morning I woke feeling marvelous and decided to take a tour of the waterfalls around Baños, at the end of which I hiked a steep trail to view Pailòn del Diablo waterfall. An hour and a half after beginning my knee had not so much as twinged. I later learned that the practice of immersing injured muscles alternately in ice water and scalding hot water is a technique used by many professional athletes because cold tricks super-contracted muscles into releasing. It’s been six weeks since my visit and my knee remains miraculously healed. Whether it was the ice water or the hot mineral waters that effected the cure I’ll probably never know, but since I was on the verge of losing my ability to hike completely, I am thankful beyond words that I had the opportunity to visit Baños.

Visitor Information for Baños, Ecuador

Arriving from the Quilotoa Loop or Cotopaxi Volcano by Bus:

Take any local bus to Latacunga, which is the transportation hub in this part of Ecuador. If coming from Chugchilan or Quilotoa, take the Iliniza bus through Zumbahua rather than Sigchos, as it offers more impressive scenery (the views from the left side of the bus are better). Fare $2.50. Transfer in Latacunga to a direct bus going to Baños.  Do not go to the Terminal Terrestre to catch this bus; ask the locals to point you to the street corner where the buses to Baños all stop. Any of the companies will do, as long as they are a direct service. Fare: around $4.00, paid on board.

Where to Stay:

Initially I stayed at Hostel Chimenea, which offers shared and private sleeping accommodations: from 4-6 beds dorms with ensuite bathroom and hot water all day, to private rooms for 1-3 people. My private room with two twin beds and ensuite (private) bath cost just $10 per night. Hostel Chimenea is the first and only hostel in Baños with a swimming pool, steam health bath, jacuzzi, spa-body massage, panoramic terrace, internet and wi-fi, guest kitchen, on-site breakfast facilities, bar/cafeteria, laundry, luggage storage, board games and dvd, books exchange, private parking and tours/travel desk. Highly recommended for the budget traveler.

On my third day in Baños I moved to Hostal La Posada del Arte. This lovely guest house has 15 rooms, nine of which are in La Posada “Classic,” the original hotel on the site. Six rooms are located in a relatively new addition, “The Blue House,” which is separated from the main lodge by a garden and patio. All rooms are decorated with original Ecuadorian art, and have private baths with hot water 24 hours per day. Their sala (common room) encourages guests to relax, read, listen to music, or watch TV. The gentle rush of the waterfall, which tumbles from the mountains just a half block away, filters through a skylight, providing a soothing background for reading or relaxing before a crackling fire. Posada del Arte also serves gourmet food in their on-site restaurant, and their amazing breakfasts are included in the price of the room. Prices for a single range from $29-32, double from $55-59, and triple from $77-83. The higher priced rooms within each category have extra amenities, such as jacuzzi, fireplace or private balcony. Highly recommended for those who prefer mid-range accommodations.

Thermal Hot Springs:

There are three municipal pools that use hot water from the volcano within the town limits and one outside of town, however I only visited Termas de la Virgen. It is located at the foot of the Caballera de la Virgen waterfall (the only waterfall in the center of town), at the junction of Juan Montalvo y Martínez Streets. Facilities include three hot water pools, one regular pool, a cold plunge spa, hot and cold showers, and changing rooms. Towels can be rented for $.80 however the service does not begin until 8 a.m. The facility is open every day of the week from 4 a.m. to 5 p.m., closes for one hour and then opens again from 6 to 10 p.m. The hottest pool is open only during evening hours. Daily admission (daytime hours) is $1,50; evening admission is $2.50.

Spa Services:

Banos is littered with day spas, yoga studios, and massage therapists. I asked for a recommendation of a therapist who could do deep tissue massage and was referred to Geoffrey and Edith Holmes, owners of Stay In Touch Therapeutic Massage, which is located just across the street from Hostal Posada del Arte. I had a one-hour deep tissue sports massage ($30) and, on a separate occasion, a facial combined with a head, neck and shoulders massage ($32). They also offer Neo-richean, Swedish, Esalen, Accupressure, Reflexology, Shiatsu, and spinal adjustments, as well as herbal facials and other natural treatments that utilize locally sourced herbs and ingredients, all hand-prepared by Edith. The services were outstanding and the owners are currently expanding to add private and shared accommodations, as well as a Yoga studio.

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This past weekend I was honored to be interviewed by Sue and Kevin McCarthy for their popular live radio show “Travel Planners.” The subject was Ecuador, and I discussed all four zones of this tiny but surprisingly diverse country: the Galapagos Islands, the coast, the Andes Mountains, and the Amazon jungle. To listen to my half-hour interview, click on the links below.

Kevin and Sue McCarthy of The Travel Planners Radio Show

Part One, Ecuador Interview

Part Two, Ecuador Interview

Travel Planners is a two-hour fun and fact-filled conversation on travel destinations, news, tips, and experts. Co-hosts Kevin and Sue McCarthy have circumnavigated the world and are into their eleventh year with the popular radio show that is syndicated on 13 stations in the U.S., as well as in the Netherlands and South Africa. The show is available on line every Saturday morning from 8 to 10 a.m. Central time. To tune in, go to Global American Broadcasting Satellite Network and click on GAB1. To read more about Sue and Ken’s travels, see photos taken by Sue, and read their blog, visit Kevin and Sue Travel.

Quito Vacations

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After a week in 9,350-foot high Quito I was no longer huffing and puffing as I trekked up and down the city’s ubiquitous hills, so I was totally unconcerned about altitude as I headed for the central highlands of Ecuador, home to spectacular volcanoes and some of the best hiking in the country. The dust-caked brakes of my rickety bus squealed to a halt in the center of Chugchilan, where indigenous Quichua had gathered in droves to celebrate Dia de Difuntos (Day of the Deceased). Anxious to photograph the event, I double-timed up the hill to Hostal Cloud Forest, dumped my luggage and headed back out, surprised that I was breathing heavily after such a short distance.

Iliniza Bus delivered me to Chugchilan

Though I had observed Quichua women in their distinctive bowler hats in Quito, this was my first opportunity to mingle with the indigenous population. My initial excitement quickly faded when my repeated requests to take photos were rebuffed with shakes of the head and turned backs. Crowds parted like the Red Sea as I walked down the main street and my smile was met with suspicious looks. Stone-faced vendors sold me snacks without so much as a thank you.

Locals in Chugchilan eye me with suspicion

Young Quichua girls in traditional dress in Chugchilan's central plaza

As the late afternoon light faded to twilight and temperatures dropped to bone-chilling levels, I finally convinced two beautiful young Quichua girls in the main plaza to pose for a photo before fleeing back to the warmth of the hostel’s wood-burning stove. When my shivering subsided I nosed around the facilities. The dining room was furnished with rough wooden tables and benches and a cavernous below-ground common area room held only a lone computer and three plastic lawn chairs. With no comfortable place to relax I retreated to my unheated room after a tasteless dinner, hoping to catch upon email, only to discover that the Internet was not working. I tried to write but my frigid fingers fumbled on the keyboard and when my throat grew raw from the cold I stood under a scalding hot shower and jumped under a mound of woolen blankets, hoping to ward off the sinus infection that threatened.

Early the next morning I threw open the curtains to brilliant sunshine that rapidly warmed up my room. Anxious to investigate the area, I teamed up with two backpackers from France and Australia for a trek to a cheese factory located in a tiny village, high in the surrounding mountains. The hostel owner drew a crude map on a scrap of paper and assured us the round-trip hike would take about four hours, so we headed out early in order to avoid the fog that rolls in every afternoon.

Church and Plaza Principal in Chugchilan, Ecuador

Just past the church we turned right on a dirt road that climbed steeply and within minutes I was gasping. On the pretense of oohing and aahing over a baby sheep staked to a patch of grassy hillside, I stopped to regain my breath. “How high do you thing we are?” I asked Jerome. He whipped out his altimeter. “We are almost at ze 11,000 feetz,” he declared in his delightful French accent. My brow wrinkled; this was the highest I had been so far in Ecuador. Still, I hadn’t felt any major effects in Quito so I pressed on, grateful that my two young companions were happy to let me rest every so often.

Sheep are staked in a different spot each day on the hillsides around Chugchilan, Ecuador

It soon became apparent that our map bore little resemblance to the actual route and we began asking locals if we were walking in the correct direction. An hour into the trek men on horseback said the factory was just a little way ahead. Soon afterward a group of children ran up the hillside and offered to be our guides for a fee; when we declined they told us the factory was just twenty minutes further up the road. Higher and higher we climbed, until snow capped peaks emerged from behind the sculpted green hills. Hoping to mask my pulmonary distress, I paused and offered tips on the best techniques for shooting photos in the mountains, but I think Jerome and Caitlin were on to my ploy. A bit further along Jerome created another excuse to rest as we sat beneath giant tussocks of grass on the side of the road and pretended to preen our long locks. I would like to believe they were as tired as me but I suspect they were just being kind.

Snow-capped mountains begin to emerge as we climbed ever higher

Long locks on the path to the cheese factory

When the road finally crested at 12,000 feet I gazed over stark rounded hills covered in thigh-high grasses, amazed that anyone actually lived in such a remote place. Two and a half hours into our trip there was absolutely no sign of a village, much less a cheese factory. We descended through clouds that billowed across the road and blocked the sun, turning a warm morning into a dreary, drizzly afternoon, and finally reached a fork in the road. Our map called for a left turn but far ahead, a barely visible Quichua man and his dog had taken the right-hand path; we decided to follow him. Not long afterward tiny concrete houses that mimicked the barren hills began to appear and we soon found the turnoff to the cheese factory. Bedraggled and exhausted, I negotiated to buy some of the three varieties of cheese the owner produced, struggling to understand his mountain dialect that mixed Spanish with Kichua words.

The road finally crests at 12,000 feet

Walking through clouds in high altitudes on the Quilotoa Loop

With plummeting temperatures and nothing but a sweatshirt to keep me warm I left Caitlin and Jerome and caught a ride partway down the mountain but it was too late – by the time I arrived back at the hostel I was chilled to the bone. Fully clothed, I climbed beneath the mountain of covers on my bed but still could not get warm. I turned on the shower full blast and stripped, shivering uncontrollably as I waited for hot water that never arrived. For the remainder of that long, miserable night, I tossed and turned, unable to warm my icicle feet and fingers; by morning I was willing to pay almost anything to find more comfortable accommodations. Fortunately, Hostal Mama Hilda was right next door and the owner’s daughter showed me common rooms furnished with comfy overstuffed furniture that were heated by wood stoves every evening. Best of all, she promised me a room with a portable heater. I lost no time in transferring my luggage and settled into the sun room to write.

Quichua woman sitting on the porch of her simple concrete home high up in the mountains

Small cheese factory in the hills above Chugchilan, run by one older man, using Swiss technology

My contentment was short lived. The soothing background music that had been playing on the radio when I arrived was changed to heavy rock and a group of men gathered in the lobby to hold a community meeting, talking and arguing in loud voices for the next two hours. Trucks rumbled by outside, dogs barked incessantly, and car alarms went off every few minutes. My head throbbed, my throat was raw. By late afternoon I began to shiver again and asked if someone would light the stove but was repeatedly told it would be done “later.” After dinner I just wanted to climb into bed but my promised heater had never materialized and when I requested it I was handed a hot water bottle. I wriggled beneath the covers wearing three layers of clothes and slept fitfully for a few hours but woke at 3 a.m. with a serious case of diarrhea, upset stomach, severe dizziness, and chills, all classic symptoms of altitude sickness, also known as acute mountain sickness (AMS). For two miserable days I languished in bed, wishing I was dead. Every couple of hours I woke up gasping from the weight of the bed covers on my chest; I would throw them off until I got too cold, then burrow beneath the covers and the entire process would begin anew. There was no clinic in town and I was too sick to go down the mountain, which is the best remedy for AMS, so I just had to suffer through it. I now understand that I went up too high, too quickly after arriving; I should have taken a day to acclimate to the altitude in Chugchilan prior to hiking to the cheese factory.

Lake-filled Quilotoa Caldera is nearly 13,000 feet high

Three days later I was still too weak even to take the crowded local bus down the mountain and instead had to hire a private truck. Fortunately, my driver was kind enough to make a brief stop at the Quilotoa Caldera, the most popular site on the Quilotoa Loop. Wearily, I dragged myself up the short trail to the crater rim and snapped a photo of the collapsed volcanic cone filled with a deep blue lake. It would have been a shame to come all this way and not see the caldera, but I can honestly say that all I wanted at that moment was to come down from the mountain.

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I thought I was so clever. Ecuador’s President Correa had combined three national holidays into one to create the longest holiday weekend in the history of the country on November 2-6, so instead of winging it as usual, I’d made reservations in Chugchilan, a tiny town in the central mountains renowned for its volcanoes, stunning scenery, and hiking. Unfortunately, I hadn’t given any thought to how I would get to Chugchilan on the day when half a million people flee Quito for their hometowns to honor their ancestors on Dia de los Difuntos, the Day of the Deceased.

Families gather at the cemetery in Chugchilan to clean graves and honor the deceased

A taxi driver burst my confidence bubble the night before I was scheduled to leave Quito. “No es posible para viajar a Chugchilan manana por la manana porque todos los buses estara llena,” he warned. It is not possible to travel to Chugchilan tomorrow because all the buses will be completely full.

The owner of my hostel said my best bet would be to arrive at the terminal as early as possible and hope for the best, so at the crack of dawn the next morning I walked up the ramp to the ticket booths at Quitumbes Terminal and into a sea of humanity. I fought my way up to the only window that was selling tickets for Latacunga, the town where I would need to change buses for Chugchilan, and suddenly realized that the seething crowd was actually dozens of lines formed up in front of the ticket windows. Following the queue backwards I asked every few feet, “Esta es la linea para Latacunga?” Is this the line for Latacunga? “Si, Senora,”was the repeated reply, more often than not accompanied by rolling eyes or shrugged shoulders. On the opposite side of the terminal I finally reached the end of line and took my place, harboring little hope that I would be able to reach my destination. Although there was a bus leaving for Latacunga every 45 minutes, I had to arrive no later than 11:30 a.m. to transfer to one of only two buses that goes to Chugchilan each day.

Just as I was about to give up and go back to my hostel in Quito a man walked by shouting, “Taxi a Latacunga!” “Cuanto?” I asked. How much? “Cuarenta dolares,” he replied. Forty dollars. I grimaced and shook my head. “Pero con cuatro es solo diez dolares cada uno.” But with four people it is only $10 each. With that, he and his companero were off to find three other passengers, even though I had not agreed to his offer. My mind raced. What to do? Was this safe? They were obviously not driving a legal taxi. For all I knew, they were thieves and I could end up in the mountains with my throat slit. Before I could ask the woman in front of me for her opinion they were back with an Ecuadorian family of three in tow – mother, father and teenage daughter. Hesitantly, I asked the father if he thought this was safe and he assured me it would be fine. Seeing my indecision he explained that the men were going to Latacunga to visit their families and were offering to take other passengers to make a little extra money. It was split-second decision time. My gut told me the situation was legitimate. I  followed them out the exit.

Two and a half hours later they dropped me at the bus terminal in Latacunga with wishes for a good trip. Once again, my trusty gut had served me well. I bought a $2.50 ticket for the early bus to Chugchilan and asked the driver to open the lower storage bay but he shook his head and motioned for me to carry my luggage into the bus. Hefting my backpack and suitcase up the steep steel steps, I struggled down the narrow walkway to my aisle seat near the back of the bus, where the stench of gasoline permeated the air. I stuffed my backpack on the floor behind my feet and my suitcase in the aisle next to me, concerned that other passengers would not be able to get by. I needn’t have worried. As the bus filled up my suitcase was quickly buried beneath satchels, giant plastic shopping bags, and sacks of potatoes and onions. A Quichua woman appeared at my side and directed her son to climb over me into the window seat. My delight that his small size would give me more room to move around turned to dismay when the woman also started to climb over me and I realized that the three-hour trip would be done with three people crammed into a seat designed for two.

Indigenous Quichua come frommiles arund to celebrate Dia de los Difuntos in Chugchilan

As the bus rumbled out of the station, extended family members began passing around containers of hot food. My seat-mate spoon fed the boy and then cradled him in her arms, poking me in the breast with her jutting elbow. With legs pretzeled and head hanging over his mother’s arm the boy slept, but he grew restless as the odor of gasoline grew stronger. Suddenly, he sat up halfway and threw up repeatedly into a plastic bag his mother had at the ready. He fell back into a comatose sleep, leaving his mother to juggle a sack of food and a bag of vomit while still cradling her son. I couldn’t stand it anymore. Though I didn’t know the Spanish word for “lap,” I offered to let her son lie across both of us. Between two women, no words were necessary; I could have motioned for him to lie down and she would have understood. With a shy but grateful smile, she gently lowered him onto my lap, where I balled my sweatshirt up into a pillow to cushion his head.

And so we rode. A single baby shoe, hanging from a roof vent by a dirty shoelace, bounced in time as the raggedy bus clattered over a road more rock than dirt. Young girls clambered over piles of luggage with offerings of biscuits to placate wailing babies. A twenty-something woman in tight jeans and high-heeled boots sauntered saucily up the aisle to greet male friends with air kisses on cheeks.

Road slices through rolling hills on the way to Chugchilan

The serpentine road enfolded upon itself, climbing ever higher into ice-cream scooped hills. Outside the scene was a patchwork of neatly planted gold and green fields. Inside I looked down upon the cafe au lait skin and thick black lashes of a precious young boy sleeping contentedly in my lap. When we finally ground to a halt in Chugchilan the mother wordlessly roused her son, stepped over me and was gone without a word. No thanks were offered; none were expected. It was nothing more or less than any Ecuadorian would have done.

Cotopaxi Vacations

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No matter what I tried, I could not get dry. I showered and toweled off, put on one of two pair of pants and T-shirts I had carried into the jungle, and within minutes of stepping into the unforgiving Equatorial sun, my sweat-soaked clothes were stuck to me like a second skin. To put it bluntly, after two days at Cuyabeno Lodge I stank. It was a relief to climb into bed each night, pull the mosquito net around me, and lie spread-eagle and motionless as the exotic sounds of the jungle lulled me to sleep.

My journey around Ecuador had previously taken me to the Galapagos Islands; the dry coastal plains around Puerto Lopez, with their immense stretches of beach and surf; and the central mountains, home to one of the world’s highest capital cities, Quito, but these three zones combined make up only half of the area of the country. The remainder is covered by tropical rainforests and my trip to Ecuador would not have been complete without visiting what is known as Amazonas.

Cuyabeno Lodge on the Grand Lagoon, Cuyabeno National Park. Photo Courtesy of Neotropicturis.

With such a vast area of jungle, options for visiting the Amazon are myriad, however I had an advantage when it came to choosing a specific destination. My friend Heather Cowper, who writes the popular travel blog Heather on her Travels, highly recommended Cuyabeno National Park in the far northeast corner of Ecuador, one of very few inundated tropical rainforests in the world. My first hint that this would be an out-of-the-ordinary adventure came when the owners of Cuyabeno Lodge briefed me about the trip. From Quito I would need to take a seven-hour bus ride to the town of Lago Agrio, where I would be met by their guide for another two-hour van ride to the entrance of the National Park. There I would transfer to a boat for an additional 2.5-hour ride on the Cuyabeno River to the Grand Lagoon. Since the last leg would be accomplished in small motorized canoes, space for luggage was limited to a small backpack; their parting advice was to pack only lightweight, quick-drying pants and shirts, a comment I glossed over and promptly dismissed, to my later dismay.

The following evening I boarded the Esmeraldas bus bound for Lago Agrio and sank gratefully into my front row seat, hoping to fall fast asleep, but the moment we headed down the mountain it became clear this would not be a comfortable trip. For three hours the road plummeted at a grade so steep that I had to brace my feet against the front wall to keep from sliding out of my seat. At the foot of the mountain we entered steamy lowlands bordering the jungle, forcing me to peel off layers of clothing that had kept me warm through Quito’s chilly nights. Finally, I dozed, only to be rudely awakened when the pavement ended and our bus  jounced over rough graveled roads and across a series of rickety metal bridges with narrow wooden planks barely wide enough for the tires. By the light of the full moon I could just make out the glistening rivers far below and my mind conjured images of tumbling to the bottom of the gorges.

Motoring down the Cuyabeno River

As the eastern horizon was blinking pink we pulled into Lago Agrio, a prosperous town on the edge of the jungle where giant refineries process the abundant petroleum being extracted from the Amazon basin. Now in a private van, we traveled a newly paved road that cut a serpentine path through dense vegetation, bordered the entire way by a huge pipeline through which flowed black gold. Two hours later we arrived at the park entrance and transferred to a dugout canoe painted in faded bright colors for our transfer to the lodge. I tottered down the narrow floorboard of the boat and commandeered a rough wooden plank behind our heaped luggage, exhilarated from a combination of sleep deprivation and the foreign landscape that lay before me.

Exotic Hoatzin displays its plumage

With wind blowing through my hair and the coffee-colored Cuyabeno River at my fingertips we motored deep into the Amazon, past serpents sunning on muddy banks and exotic Hoatzin birds perched on overarching branches. Suddenly, the river broadened into a vast lagoon where azure skies dotted with cotton-ball clouds framed palm-crowned islands. Our boatman deftly steered around giant trees with wide buttressed trunks protruding from the black water and beached the boat on a muddy bank leading to the high ridge where our cabins awaited.

Can’t see the above slide show of Cuyabeno National Park in the Amazon jungle of Ecuador? Click here.

For the next three days we plied the rivers in search of exotic birds, reptiles, and insects. One day brought sightings of four different primate species: two tiny night monkeys peered out from a tree hollow; a mob of squirrel monkeys flew through the forest on a highway of dead limbs; a Satanic-looking Capuchin monkey bared fangs from a high perch; and an endangered Parahuaco Monkey with an incredibly long, thick tail flew between branches like a trapeze artist. One night we swept the inky waters with flashlights until the yellow eyes of a caiman gleamed back at us; we motored within inches of the nine-foot long submerged beast and gaped at its immense head and jaws. Another night I was totally unnerved by a giant Wolf Spider clinging to a leaf just inches from my leg as we trekked through the jungle after dark.

Black Tamarin Monkey is also known as a Bebe Leche Monkey because of its whiskers, which look like they were dipped in milk

Even the afternoon I opted to stay at the lodge rather than trek was spectacular; Black Tamarin Monkeys groomed one another and nursed babies hanging from their teats just feet from the lodge’s open-air dining room. But my favorite moment of all was on the final day, when we paddled to a quiet bay in the lagoon just before sunset and baited bamboo fishing poles with hunks of beef in hopes of hooking a Piranha. Within seconds the flesh-eating fish struck, deftly nibbling the beef, but try as I might I could not set the hook. I was down to my last hunk of beef and had just about given up hope when a perfectly-timed snap of the pole brought up a White Piranha. Our guide cautiously extracted the hook and displayed the fish’s razor sharp teeth before releasing it, giving me pause about a suggestion earlier in the day that we could swim in the lagoon.

I hook a White Piranha!

I almost took them up on the offer as a means of doing my laundry. By that time, I had tried to spot-wash my stinking clothes in the sink with the biodegradable soap provided by the lodge, but that was an exercise in futility. Unfortunately, my pants were not lightweight and after hanging two days in the tropical humidity they were still not dry. I boarded the bus back to Quito with a backpack full of damp, reeking clothes, wearing my least dirty trousers and T-shirt, painfully aware of my own stench. I tried keeping the window partially open to minimize the smell but temperatures dropped as we headed up the mountain and every time I opened my window, the person in front of me closed it. I suffered in silence, wondering what my seatmate must be thinking and consoling myself with the thought that it was a small price to pay for the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to visit the Amazon.

Visiting Cuyabeno Lodge

Cuyabeno Lodge, the oldest accommodation and first ecotourism facility within the 1,500,000 acre Cuyabeno National Park, is operated by international conservationists who helped create and protect the park. Every bit of building material for the facility was trucked in to the border of the reserve and transported by canoe to the building site, rather than using trees from ecologically sensitive areas. Because cabins have only waist-high walls topped by roll-down wooden blinds I had visions of jaguars jumping through my windows as I slept but the only critters I had to oust were beautifully colored giant cockroaches. Once I got rid of the undesirable bugs, sleeping was quite pleasant, as the nights cooled down to very comfortable temperatures and the exotic sounds of the jungle quickly lulled me to sleep. Each cabin is furnished with a comfortable bed, mosquito netting, lukewarm-water showers and a small desk. Though the cabins are lit by generator every evening, electric receptacles are available only in the kitchen, however the staff takes great pains to recharge batteries for guests’ electronic equipment.

Cuyabeno Lodge kindly hosted the author’s visit to the Cuyabeno National Park in Ecuador. However, the receipt and acceptance of complimentary items/services received will never influence the content, topics, or posts in this blog. I write the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

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Quito enjoys a fair share of fame. Its elevation of 9,200 feet makes it the second highest administrative capital city (after La Paz, Bolivia) and the highest legal capital in the world. It is also the only capital located directly beneath an active volcano, Pichincha, which erupted as recently as 2006, sprinkling ash over the city and disrupting activities, including closure of the international airport. Old town Quito, one of the largest, best-preserved historic districts in the world, was selected by UNESCO as one of the first two World Heritage Sites in 1978. Even its reputation as a dangerous, crime-ridden city imbues it with a certain notoriety. But it was Quito’s distinction as the “Middle of the World” that most fascinated me.

Beautifully restored buildings grace Quito's historic center, a UNESCO World Heritage site

In 1736, French scientists set out to determine the exact point on the globe that was located midway between the north and south poles. This was no easy feat, since so much of “middle earth” is ocean, swamps, and jungle. Their search for dry land led them to Ecuador, a short distance from present day Quito, where they established La Mitad del Mundo (The Middle of the World), also known as the Linea Equatorial or Equator. Two hundred years later, in 1936, a monument was erected on the spot and a line painted on the ground to mark the Equator, a site which is today one of the top tourist destinations in the country.

Each year, thousands of tourists straddle this line, believing they have one foot in the Northern Hemisphere and the other in the Southern Hemisphere. Many have no idea that actual Equator runs through the middle of a pre-Inca ruin located approximately 1,000 feet to the north of the monument, a fact confirmed with the development of satellite Global Positioning Systems (GPS) that allowed for more accurate mathematical calculations.

Can’t view the above slide show of Quito? Click here.

Huffing and puffing from lack of oxygen in Quito’s thin air, I climbed the hilly streets to city parks, visited spectacular Gothic and gilt-covered churches, and wandered around old town on a mission to see every historic building, whether artfully restored or still crumbling. At 11 a.m. on Monday morning I was front and center at the Presidential Palace as Ecuador’s President Correa stepped to the balcony to acknowledge the weekly Changing of the Guard ceremony. But I just couldn’t convince myself to pay admission to visit La Mitad del Mundo, especially since I’d crossed the Equator four times during my cruise around the Galapagos Islands.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RrwyHUe0jl8

Can’t see the above YouTube video about the Changing of the Guard at the Presidential Palace in Quito, Ecuador? Click here.

Days later I hopped an eastbound bus and descended from the chilly mountaintop to the town of Lago Agrio, gateway to Ecuador’s steamy Amazon jungle. In Cuyabeno National Park I followed my guide down a narrow dirt path bracketed by dense vegetation until he stopped aside a low mound of earth. “You’re standing on the Equator,” he announced.

Standing on the Equator in the Amazon jungle of Ecuador

There was no monument to mark this spot deep in the tropical rainforest, no throngs of noisy tourists. Wild pigs screamed in the distance and birds squawked from hidden treetop perches as I squatted down and reverently touched the middle of the earth – the real Equator.

Quito Vacations

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I have few remaining vices in life. I don’t smoke, drink, use drugs, gamble or even eat meat, but when it comes to chocolate I am a self-confessed addict, so when master chocolatier Jeffrey Stern left a comment on my blog inviting me to “come by for some chocolate and to learn about the cacao industry in Ecuador,” I could barely contain my excitement. Of course I was interested in his story – how a young man from San Diego ended up owning a gourmet chocolate factory in Ecuador – but I must confess it was the prospect of free samples that had me in a taxi, bound for his factory, the morning after arriving in Quito.

Chocolatier Jeffrey Stern displays trays of handmade bonbons

Stern came to his passion quite accidentally. He arrived in Ecuador fresh out of college in 1994, newly hired by the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID). Two years later, disenchanted with the integrity of foreign aid work, he returned to the United States with his Ecuadorian wife, Maria, and went back to school to pursue his interest in culinary arts. After graduating in 2002 he worked for restaurants, catering services, and as a personal chef, but it was his part time position in a chocolate shop that changed his life forever. “I got really interested in chocolate and started playing around with other methods and creations,” says Stern.

About that time, he and his wife and two children decided to come back to Quito for a visit. “At the time I had no idea that Ecuador is the world’s largest producer of fine grade cacao,” Stern admitted. He checked out the local chocolate stores looking for new ideas and soon learned that Ecuador was the leading source of Arriba Nacional Cacao, a native bean that produces the world’s most flavorful chocolate. Shortly afterward the couple decided to relocate to Quito and open a gourmet chocolate factory that they named Gianduja Chocolates.

I arrived mid-morning and knocked on the steel door marked only by the address Stern had provided. He buzzed me in and met me at the door of his tiny shop, from which emanated the most heavenly smell on earth – melted chocolate. Maria and the firm’s only employee were hard at work, placing chocolate ganache squares on metal rollers that carried the bonbons beneath a drenching machine in a scene eerily reminiscent of the famous “I Love Lucy” episode. When the chocolate-coated bonbons bounced out the other side, small squares of plastic known as “transfers” were applied to the top of each piece. Some transfers sport multi-colored designs in cocoa butter; the plastic is pressed into place on top of the hot bonbon and peeled off when the chocolate has cooled, transferring the design to the candy. In this case, however, Stern was using a transfer with a geometric design that left a checkerboard design on the finished chocolates.

The chocolate is "tempered" when it dries to a shiny gloss

Peeling the Mora jelly filling out of plastic molds

A la "I Love Lucy" bonbons are placed on a moving belt for drenching with chocolate

Working the chocolate assembly line, with every step done by hand

Finished bonbons are set out to dry

Chocolates with geometric transfer sheets on top

An hour into the interview and tour, my mouth was watering and I was beginning to wonder if samples would be offered. Something in my face must have given me away, for Stern suddenly grinned and asked, “Would you like to taste one?” He handed me a bonbon that could not be sold because the transfer had accidentally been applied upside down. “It’s one of our specialties, blackberry pate de fruit (a jelly made from the local Mora berry), topped with a milk chocolate ganache and enrobed in 70% dark chocolate made from pure Nacional cacao beans.” My eyes rolled back in my head and I almost swooned. It was the best chocolate I have ever tasted.

An upside down transfer sheet made this bonbon unsaleable, so I got to eat it

More varieties of gourmet bonbons and another unsaleable one for me to eat

Stern also makes specialty chocolate items like these teaspons

...as well as chocolate teacups and vases

Though Stern has finally begun to turn a profit after five years of operation, he is concerned about the cacao industry in Ecuador.  Many farmers have converted to a new hybrid cacao bean with the unglamorous moniker of CCN-51, since it has triple the yield of the Nacional bean and is more pest resistant. Unfortunately, CCN-51 is a lower quality bean that has a poorer flavor. Exacerbating the problem is the tendency to mix the two beans during fermentation. “The two varieties of cacao have different requirements for fermentation time (the first step in making chocolate that creates many of the precursors to chocolate flavor) but when they are processed together an average time is used, which
is not optimum for either bean,” Stern explained. As a result, both beans are degraded in quality.

Maria holds a bowl of unroasted cacao beans

Worried that Ecuador is in danger of losing its status as the world’s largest producer of fine flavored cocoa, the master chocolatier recently partnered with the owners of Millcreek Cacao Roasters to save the prized cacao variety. They hope to purchase raw Nacional beans from local growers for export to the U.S., where it will be painstakingly roasted at their a Salt Lake City plant. The resultant chocolate will be molded into shiny bars, hand-packaged, and sold at Millcreek Cacao’s existing locations, as well as online and through other venues. “Everyone wins in this scenario. Local growers get a fair price for their product and the world gets to enjoy the finest chocolate in the world,” says Stern.

In order to fund the new venture, Stern has launched a campaign at Kickstarter, the world’s largest funding platform for creative projects. If they receive $17,500 in pledges by December 23rd the project will be funded. If they do not reach their goal, no funds are collected from the backers and the project does not go forward. A pledge can be as little as $1 but backers who pledge $20 or more will receive gifts ranging from bars of chocolate to everlasting cacao pods if the project is funded.
 

I left Gianduja that afternoon on a chocolate high, having pledged to support Stern in the best way I know how – to spread the word about his project. Having sampled his blackberry, hazelnut, orange, lemon and caramel varieties on site, and purchased a box of additional flavors for later indulging, I can only hope that he is successful in raising the funds needed to go forward. As of this writing, he has attracted pledges in the amount of $580 from ten backers. If you can spare a dollar, you could be helping to save Ecuador’s Arriba Nacional cacao bean from extinction.

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If you’re looking for a party, don’t go to Puerto Lopez, Ecuador. The loudest noise I heard during my week stay in this tiny coastal village was a rooster crow and many of the shops that cater to tourists were closed during the week. But after eight days of cruising in heavy seas around the Galapagos Islands, I needed a quiet place where I could drop anchor and let the ground stop rocking. Puerto Lopez turned out to be the perfect choice.

I arrived in darkness after a five-hour bus ride, took a 50-cent moto-taxi to my hotel, dragged my weary carcass to my room and collapsed into bed. The next morning I wound through spectacular gardens at Hosteria Mandala to the main lodge and sank into a chair on the wrap-around deck. Spread before me, as far as I could see in either direction, was a stretch of pristine golden beach dotted with precisely planted palms spaced perfectly for hammocks. I sighed contentedly and kicked off my shoes.

Beach in front of Mandala Hosteria, sweeps for miles in both directions

This sleepy little fishing village located in the center of Ecuador’s coastline is best known as a gateway to other attractions. A short ride to the north are beautiful Los Frailes Beach in Machililla National Park and the indigenous community of Agua Blanca. I visited both in one day, starting with Agua Blanca. Residents of this communal village are all descendants of the Manteña Culture that inhabited the area from 800 AC to 1532 A.C. They provide personal tours of a small museum that houses a collection of artifacts dating back to 3500 B.C., all of which were discovered in archeological digs around the area. After the museum, a half-hour walk through brittle forests and a bone-dry river bed led to an unexpected sulfur lagoon, the last remnant of an eroded volcanic caldera. Gratefully, I stripped down to my swimsuit and began spreading mud from the bottom of the spring on every square inch of exposed skin. The slate-colored clay dried quickly in the sun and I jumped in the warm water to wash it away.

Mud from bottom of sulfur lagoon is great for the skin

Later that afternoon, refreshed from my swim and sporting silky smooth, baby soft skin, my moto-taxi driver whisked me to Los Frailes Beach, part of the greater Machalilla National Park. At the end of a short sand path I mounted a low rise and a surveyed a perfect crescent of white sand. A lone sun umbrella, gleaming sea-foam green in the dazzling midday light, canted toward the ocean at the edge of the surf. I sank into the powdery sand and wriggled my toes, reveling in the feeling of having the exquisite beach all to myself.

Los Frailes Beach in Machalilla National Park

Another day I headed south to the tiny fishing commune of Salango and its small but impressive museum, the first in-situ museum in Ecuador. Its extraordinary collection of authentic pottery and artifacts tells the story of pre-Columbian peoples who inhabited what is today known as the Spondylus Route. As early as 3500 B.C., coastal inhabitants valued the Spondylus shell for its vibrant red color, diving to great depths to find the coveted mollusk. Initially used to craft elaborate necklaces and highly polished ornamental pieces, Spondylus eventually was as highly valued as gold is today. In addition to being great divers, the ancients of Salango were excellent navigators. Abundant sources of balsa wood and the cultivation of cotton allowed them to develop elaborate balsa wood rafts, in which they sailed from the southern tip of Chile up to present-day Acapulco, diffusing their new ideas and technologies to the diverse people with whom they came into contact and spreading the use of Spondylus as a currency.

Ancient Spondylus jewelry and artifacts at Salango Museum

Though the museum and ancient history of Salango and its offshore island of the same name was fascinating, it was the present day history that interested me the most. I followed the museum caretaker around back to a second building and waited while he struggled with a giant padlock. Inside, he led me around displays that explained the fishing industry that sustains most of Ecuador’s coastal villages. Twenty-two days each month (excluding full and near-full moon nights, during which the fish won’t bite) the small boats that litter the coves and beaches head out to sea with an average of twelve men each, though how 12 people can possibly fit into such small vessels and still be able to fish is a mystery to me. The boats are loaded down with five gallon plastic containers of fuel, bottles of water, supplies, bait, and giant blocks of ice to keep the catch from spoiling. They stay out for up to 24 hours or until the boat is full. On a good day, a boat will haul in $2,000 worth of fish, which is split equally between all hands after the captain takes his larger share.

Can’t view the above slide show about Puerto Lopez, Ecuador? Click here.

The following day I witnessed this ritual first-hand in Puerto Lopez. Standing on the beach between vessels laden down with green nets and baited hooks, I watched the ballet of boats being loaded with practiced efficiency. A fire-engine red ice cart pulled up to the water’s edge and men hefted the enormous blocks onto their shoulders. Sno cone vendors and food carts dished out snacks. Late crew members roared up on motorcycles, abandoned them on the sand and ran to their boats. The men laughed and bantered, waving at me and flashing brilliant smiles as I filmed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IygVoDArGYE

Can’t view the above YouTube video about Puerto Lopez, Ecuador? Cllck here.

When the last boat was a speck on the horizon I left the beach and went in search of food. I didn’t have far to go. Just beyond the sea wall, delicious smells wafting from La Isla Restaurant stopped me in my tracks. The owners, who were gathered around a large table on the front porch enjoying a late afternoon meal, waved me in with broad smiles. I chatted with their two young daughters while waiting for my $4 fresh fish dinner to arrive, coaxing them to pose for photos as their father beamed in the background. After seeing the first photo their shyness disappeared and they pestered me to take more all through dinner.

Daughter of the owners of La Isla Restaurant shyly poses for a photo

During my seven lovely days in Puerto Lopez I went to bed when it got dark and rose with the sun, as the locals do. I ate myself silly and tesrted amazing local dishes like rice and vegetables in Mani peanut sauce. I bought Spondylus jewelry and swung lazily in a hammock for hours, reading a book. If you’re looking for a beach party in Ecuador, go to Montañita or Atacames. But if you’re interested in learning about ancient civilizations that molded the culture of coastal Ecuador; watching whales off the coast; visiting Isla de la Plata, known as the “Poor Man’s Galapagos;” or spending quality time with warm and welcoming locals, you just can’t beat Puerto Lopez.

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While my words may have painted an intriguing picture of the Galapagos Islands in Ecuador, there is nothing like video to get a true feel for a place, so I’ve put together a video of many of the animals I saw during my recent cruise and set it to music. Hope you enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lFQ8NBZz64

Can’t view the above YouTube video of the animals of the Galapagos Islands of Ecuador? Click here.

Ecoventura kindly hosted the author’s visit to the Galapagos in Ecuador. However, the receipt and acceptance of complimentary items/services received will never influence the content, topics, or posts in this blog. I write the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. In this case, I highly recommend Ecoventura, not only for their excellent facilities and the smaller, intimate size of their yachts, but also for their devotion to conservation.

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