About Me (Barbara Weibel)

Barbara Weibel After years of working 70 hours a week at jobs I detested, I felt like the proverbial "hole in the donut" - solid on the outside, but empty on the inside. Searching for meaning in my life, I abandoned my successful but unsatisfying career and set out on a six-month solo backpacking trip around the world to pursue my true passions of travel, writing, and photography. My blog features stories about the destinations I visit, people I meet, the crazy things...Read more here....


This entry is part 15 of 19 in the series Ecuador

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

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:

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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Can’t view the above YouTube video about the waterfalls of Baños, Ecuador? Click here.

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Having spent the last half-hour fighting nausea brought on by curvy mountain roads, when my tour van finally pulled into the parking lot at Misol-Ha Waterfall I briefly considered dropping to my knees and kissing the hot, motionless asphalt. I might have done just that had the tour guide not insisted we hurry, since this would be only a 40 minute stop. Instead, I gulped fresh air and headed down the hill to view this lovely ponytail stream that falls over a rock lip into a circular pool at the bottom of a gorge.

Walk behind Misol Ha Waterfall and up to a wet cave on the other side of the gorge

Descending the concrete stairs I carefully picked my way over slick rounded boulders littering the path to walk under the cascade. Beyond the cataract the path climbed to a cave on the opposite ridge. Up I went, grasping naked tree branches and ducking under rocky overhangs along the unimproved trail. Anything for a good photo. Afterward, hurrying back over the treacherous wet path, I groused silently, “I hope the lighting at the next waterfall is better.”

Back in the van we wound deeper into the mountains. From hilltops scalded by sunshine we descended into dense jungle tunnels that all but blocked the sun. As I squinted and blinked, trying to adjust my eyes to the alternating light and dark, I suddenly smelled smoke. With each passing mile the scent grew stronger, until we rounded a long curve that opened out on a broad valley pocked with gray columns slowly rumbling skyward. Everywhere, the rainforest was being set aflame to clear farmland. Here and there, blackened patches littered with Continue reading

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The narrow mountain road carved a slithering path through impenetrable jungle that threatened to devour it. Even the view through the tour bus windshield provided no relief; the asphalt ribbon stretched into the distance until it too was swallowed by the green swath. With every curve my old malady, motion sickness, was kicking up, threatening to make me hurl. I put my head down and closed my eyes, attempting to block out the incessant greenness rushing past my peripheral vision. Breathing deeply, I concentrated on not throwing up. Mercifully, the bus suddenly slowed. I looked up just in time to glimpse a crudely hand-lettered sign at the edge of a clearing where a few ramshackle buildings had staked a claim. “You are in Zapatista territory,” it announced.

Sign at the entrance to a Zapatista contolled ejido reads: "Northern Zone. Good Government. Trafficking in weapons, planting and consumption of drugs, alcoholic beverages, and illegal sale of timber are strictly prohibited. We say NO to the destruction of nature. You are in Zapatista rebel territory. Here the people command and the government obeys."

A memory bubble lurched up. Back in the mid-90′s I had considered loading up my truck and traveling through Mexico but had decided against it because of the armed conflict between the Zapatista Army of National Liberation (Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional, EZLN) and the Mexican government. On January 1, 1994 an estimated 3,000 Zapatista insurgents, based in the southernmost State of Chiapas and comprised mostly of indigenous peoples of Mayan ancestry, took up arms in response to Mexico’s signing of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), which they believed would further widen the gap between rich and poor people. They seized a number of towns and cities and freed prisoners from the jail in San Cristobal de las Casas, demanding governmental autonomy and more control over and remuneration from the vast stores of natural resources extracted from the State.

A bloody battle between the Zapatistas and government troops raged for 12 days before a ceasefire was brokered. As quickly as they had emerged, the Zapatistas melted back into into the jungle, choosing to eschew future violence in favor of disseminating their message via newspapers and the Internet. Although there were occasional skirmishes following the ceasefire, for the most part the fighting ended and the government pursued a policy of negotiation, to the point that they did not intervene when ELZN declared the establishment of 32 autonomous municipalities in Chiapas in 2001.

Now, 16 years later, I was finally making the pilgrimage I had put on hold due to the Zapatista rebellion. The further south I traveled the more I heard about Chiapas. Time and again during my four-month trip Mexicans I had met along the way extolled its beauty, insisting, “You must go!” Their passion was understandable. From the astonishing Mayan temples of Palenque to the mist-wreathed, jungle-smothered mountaintops, Chiapas is simply stunning. Continue reading

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The City of Guanajuato may be the birthplace of Mexico’s Independence, but the sign stretched across the road proclaimed the town of Dolores Hidalgo to be the cradle of its independence. My visit to this tiny village was serendipitous. Wondering whether I really wanted to keep San Miguel de Allende on my travel itinerary, I’d taken a day tour from Guanajuato to check it out, and the towns of Dolores Hidalgo and neighboring Atotonilco were on the itinerary as well. Since both figured prominently in the Mexican struggle for Independence, and since 2010 is the Bicentennial of Mexico’s Independence, these two historic pueblos turned out to be the highlight of the tour.

Cathedral on main Plaza in Dolores Hidalgo

El Centro - the main plaza in Dolores Hidalgo

A statue in Dolores Hidalgo's main Plaza honors parish priest Miguel Hidalgo

On September 16, 1810, Catholic priest Miguel Hidalgo stepped up to the pulpit in the town of Dolores and delivered an impassioned appeal for revolt against the Spanish rulers of Mexico. His timing was perfect; anti-Spanish sentiments had long been simmering and his “Grito de Dolores” (scream of Dolores) brought discontent to a boiling point. Continue reading

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