During the Winter of 2017, I traveled to the cloud rain forest region of Northeastern Ecuador. In perpetually sodden clothes and sun burnt skin, I worked closely with the non-profit Sustainable Roots in their mission to bring sustainable practices to the small farming community of Cosanga. With this being my first venture into international travel, I found myself deep in the Napo region, surrounded by some of the most bio diverse jungle in the world, with little knowledge of the area prior to my arrival. In the ensuing weeks, I spent my time digging garden drainage ditches in the rich equatorial soil, working in the local school and jungle bumbling on the weekends. Toni Walters, the director extraordinaire of Sustainable Roots, took me under her wing and truly made me feel at home. This all fell into the scope of my undergrad senior capstone project and served as the medium through which I developed a month long expedition itinerary. I returned to Ashland that Spring with aspirations of running this program, in one way or another. Two years, one failed trip attempt, a maze of bureaucratic hoops and an entirely new itinerary later...I found myself set up to return to Cosanga, accompanied by my two wonderful friends Zach and Leslie. Our intention being the development and fore running of an old horse trail through the meat of the Northern Andes, the final puzzle piece in my new trip itinerary. I have known both Zach and Leslie for quite some time: Zach since my jaunt into North Carolina in 2014 and Leslie since I arrived at SOU in 2015. Neither were a part of my initial plan and yet there they both were, joining me in my return to the jungle. The plan was to spend three weeks in country together. The first week, settling into Cosanga, working with the intrepidly badass Toni and prepping gear for the following two weeks. Following this transition week would be our first trek, I shorter excursion into the farming lands surrounding Lake Quilotoa. This would be a fairly easy trip, spread out between three full days of hiking and two beautiful mountain lodges. The trails were steep steep steep and did not bring us below 6,000 ft. The perfect warm up for what we were to find in the unforgiving Andean paramo (highlands). The day before we left found another addition to our party, HENRY! Henry lives in Cosanga and was part of Sustainable Roots' first cohort of English class guambras (kiddos). The dude holds a very special place in my heart and having this be his first ever backpack was an added bonus. A couple of buses and hostels, evening pilseners by the liter and a littering of all sorts of fried food made up the meat and potatoes of our travels from Cosanga to the central city of Latacunga. We spent a day in this bustling city shopping for supplies, drinking mojitos with with more Cosangan ex-guambras and toodling through busy streets and urban sprawl. Nursing hangovers from the previous night's sugar cane sweetened drinks, we made our way the following morning to our 6AM bus ride and found standing room amongst the local families and trek ready foreigners on the bus bound for Sigchos. Sigchos is the town that most travelers on the Quilotoa trek begin in. It is a small community nestled in the foothills and is reached by a looooong and windy road. A nightmare for those with vertigo and car sickness. Here we gathered some last minute supplies, filled up on our water reserves and found the trail head in the southeastern corner of the town. Down and down and down we traveled to the valley floor and a rushing river. The hills covered in wild greenery, tamed plots and plenty of cow poops. We followed roads, discovered single track trails twisting through the undergrowth and passed many a small family farm exhibiting the beauty of a simple life. A meager luncheon of avo, cheese, ham and bread with some fruit snacks and trail mix from the states (international protip) was shared amongst the tall grasses of a dirt road. As we munched on the post meal treats, we were approached by the sweetest old timer who let us know that I had lead us quite off track. Thanks was given and with chiding wisecracks from my companions and the blood high in my cheeks, we returned to the trail and started our way up the opposing valley wall. Not much can be said when talking about walking uphill. Eyes find the obstacles close at hand (or foot), legs pump in a perpetual beat and your body shifts to accommodate the constant weight of the pack on your back. Sweat dripped down my face and neck as the Equatorial April sun beat down on us and teamed up with the unforgiving angle of the descent. And in a moment, or a hour, we reached the top to find flat and meandering trails taking us into the mountain community of Isinlivi. Henry was tuckered, he had brought two backpacks and regretted the decision with our first two miles of the day. So we found lodging at Llu Llu Llama, set up our tents, cooked dinner, drank our beers, took our jacuzzi, played with the hostel's saint bernard and settled in for a night permeated with Balloo challenging every other dog in the surrounding hills with his deep and roaring reproach. The following morning woke us with sun speckled hills, whip cream clouds dolloped across an azure sky and all the thick hot coffee our colons could handle. Descending below our hostel, the path again followed ridge lines and valleys through a much less populated area. Intermittent posts were painted with red and yellow stripes, guiding us to the next town over. Endless folds of greenery spread out below us, reminiscent of a rumpled patchwork comforter tucked in around the dormant, snow peaked volcanoes of the Andes. We met a Kichwa cowboy, climbed an even steeper valley wall, gave some kiddos our fruit snacks, pet a pig or two and finally tromped into the Black Sheep Hostel in the early evening. We again found ourselves roughing it with prepared banana bread, brownies and cookies accompanied by hot coffee and tea. We took advantage of the early end to the day to stretch our weary legs and backs on the yoga patio while preparing for the final day and the hike to the summit of Quilotoa. We woke up day three to two satisfied canine guides sleeping in our camp and a significantly lighter provisions bag. Figuring we had paid them enough, we set out on the trail with them trotting ahead of us. Passing through the town center of Chugchilan brought us to the deeply furrowed drainage paths leading from the town low point to the valley low point 1500ft below. We picked our way through the trash runoff, pet more pigs, discussed our path choice and eventually hit the valley's river and a less than stable bridge spanning the chasm and roaring waters beneath. Our guides gladly took part in our lunch and practiced smooth transitions between achingly steep uphills and the puddles of shade spattering the valley wall. As we made our way up, the trail eroded beneath our feet and cut deeply into the hillside as it stretched to the plateau above. Once we crawled over the apex of the valley side, we were met with the final five miles spread out in front of us on the climbing foothills of Quilotoa. The summit teased us as our perception of depth and distance morphed with each step we took towards the mountain's flanks. Meandering through the rolling knolls and dales, our trail lead us finally to the summit point...and the entirety of the volcanic crater socked in with cold and clammy fogs. In a sense of disbelief and while wishing for the cover to break, we bought tea from a Quechuan family and drank it with their herd of goats. After chasing off the curious bovidae before they devoured our pack straps, we began our circumnavigation of the mountain rim with our trusty furry mountain guides. For two and a half miles, we traversed the undulating peaks and saddles of Quilotoa's jagged rim. Here and there getting glimpses of a crystalline greenish-blue, mineral laden lake settled in the crater of the once massive volcano. Sometimes compared to Oregon's Crater Lake, this slightly smaller dormant volcano erupted in 1280 CE. This was the same time that Kublai Khan developed the Yuan district of China with the Venician Marco Polo. Since those ancient times, it has been home to vibrant culture of the Kichwa community and continues to be the heart of the surrounding peoples' identity. Zach, Leslie and I listened intently to these stories as our guides lead us through the narrow sandy maze. We slept well that final night, having payed for a much simpler bunk room with a wood stove.
This was the first step in our trip and a wonderful physical prequel to our next leg of the story. Spreading from the paramo of Volcan Cotopaxi to the rain forested hillsides of Volcan Antisana, our next venture would take us through the heart of the Northern Andean region. Following the footsteps of an Incan trading route that sees little to no travel today.
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Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit, and as vital to our lives as water and good bread.- Edward Abbey Archives
March 2020
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