Crash!: Puquio to Lima

I had hopped to post something on La Paz, Lake Titicaca, Machu Picchu and the Sacred Valley before now.

However, the inevitable finally happened: I filled Eve's hard drive, which stopped me from uploading photos onto the Internet. This, in turn, zapped my enthusiasm for writing in the blog. Also, poor Internet connections in the towns we stayed in further conspired against my writing. So my plan was to catch up once back in the United States.

And this I will do. But first, let he tell you, faithful reader, about our bus ride from Cusco to Lima.

After having visited Cusco, the ancient capitol city of the Inca empire, and after having gone trekking in the Sacred Valley, and after having visited Machu Picchu, we took a night bus to Lima. Our trip had been capped by a wonderful few days and we were all felling a certain nostalgic reluctance to return home. Still, after dinner on the bus, darkness came and we all slid off one by one to sleep in our seats. The bus ride was cold, but this is something we had grown accustomed to after many months in the Andes. Eve was resting comfortably next to me. Mary was across the aisle.

When I awoke the bus was already off the road and in the air. It was tilting to the left through the darkness. I could see hand luggage tumbling down on us from the overhead compartment and I could tell the bus was crashing but before I could feel fear, I was knocked unconscious.

I looked out the window and down at the ground knowing the bus was not moving and feeling annoyed that so many other passengers were screaming that we were sliding over a cliff.

Suddenly, I was standing outside the bus, helping people one by one through the emergency exit. There was a strong smell of diesel fuel that was leaking out of the bus and onto the ground. At some point, I made my way across the street where the other passengers were congregating. I was shoeless and cold, standing in my thin sweater. I felt nauseated and my head hurt. I heard someone was trapped under the bus, but I did not believe this. Then there were buses and lights all around. I was standing on a coat or sweater to keep my feet warm. Mary was crying. Then the other buses left and we were in the dark again.

I don't remember when I knew my nose was broken and that the blood on my clothes was mine.

At some point, another bus came and I got on near the end, sitting on the floor near the back. Some people gave me tissue paper to sop up the blood coming out of my face. I held hands with those who were crying, assuring them that the worst was over.

We made our way to the village of Puquio and into the clinic. Getting off the bus, I noticed that I was carrying our bags. We set these down in the Ob-Gyn exam room where there was a dog lying under a desk. It was cold in the unheated clinic. In the room with Mary, Eve and I were two Australians, Clair and Casey. Casey, like Eve, had a clearly dislocated shoulder. Clair and Mary were bruised but had no obvious injuries. My nose was still bleeding. A Nurse came in to examine Casey, who was clearly in a lot of pain.

She then returned to clean my face. I told her I could do it myself and so she left me to it. There was a lot of dried blood in my beard and on my forehead. My teeth were all still in, but my nose was deformed and my lips, bridge of my nose and forehead were abraded and bleeding. After washing up, I asked Clair to take a photo of me.

Soon thereafter, I was seen by a doctor and put on a saline drip. The exam was quick and I was moved via wheelchair to a room with four beds. In the bed next to me was a Canadian named Damien. He had been dug out from under the bus, where he had indeed been trapped during the accident. He was awake and oriented and apparently had escaped without any broken bones or major internal bleeding. Amazing.

We stayed in the clinic a long time. I was given 200ml of a 20% solution of Maintol, which I was told would control/reduce any swelling in my brain. Doctors continued to ask me if X-rays of my head had been done. "No, todavia" I would answer. This would send them away. Eve finally tracked down a nurse, who confided that no X-rays were being done because it was too uncomfortably cold in the X-ray room. This seemed ridiculous, as it was daytime and Eve had already had an image of her shoulder before sunrise. Ever persistent, she eventually organized a portable X-ray done of my head while I lied in my bed. This confirmed that my nose was indeed broken and helped to rule our any other fractures in my skull or neck. The surgeon came to reduce the fracture, which he did to little effect.

Eventually, Eve was given a bed near mine. Her shoulder was dislocated and her clavicle had a distal fracture. Mary curled up in a ball near my feet and slept. A reported came by wanting information. Eventually, after many hours, a police officer showed up, taking down our names, nationalities and ages. He argued with Eve that they had been quick to the scene of the accident, although she eventually got him to admit that it had taken at least an hour and a half for any officer to arrive on scene. We began to hear rumors that the bus had been pillaged, and someone had died or that the driver had been alone and fallen asleep. We were never seen by any representative of the bus company.

After a nice lunch (difficult to eat given the pain in my front teeth) I spent the afternoon sleeping and talking on the phone with the embassy and family. At some point, Eve's arm was bound, but only after the surgeon demonstrated the mobility of her fracture to a student by pushing on it. This quickly reduced Eve to tears at which the surgeon joked, "she's crying and I haven't even cut her!" Eventually and without protest, we were all discharged and told a bus would take us to clinics in Lima.

Indeed, the bus company had indeed organized another bus for the remaining ten-hour trip to the capital. Likewise, everything - so we were told - had been brought from the sight of the accident to the town in the new bus. Many found this not to be the case. Indeed, my camera and Mary's iPod and headphones went missing whereas our boots were delivered to us. We all suspected the police of this malfeasance, as they assured us that the bus had been under their control the entire time, but were simultaneously obstructive when we asked for a police report of the accident or to file a report for the missing items.

We were eventually seated in the bus and began our trip to Lima a little after 4:00 in the afternoon. We had been at the clinic for nearly 11 hours and it was good to leave, knowing better treatment would be available to us soon. Taking a bus run by the same company on Peruvian mountain roads so soon after our ordeal was trying to say the least and we were relieved that the driver was sensitive enough to our trauma to take it slowly around the corners and past the cliffs.

We stopped in Nazca for enough time for me to re-purchase the medicine I had lost in Puquio. I felt better; my headache and nausea had subsided, but higher mental functions, like planning, organization and execution were still beyond my reach. I was relying a lot on Eve to think for me. In Nazca, the bus company changed drivers and we coasted down in Pana-American highway, eating our dinners and watching Mary's copy of "The House of Spirits." Then the driver changed again. For whatever reason, our new driver drove like a maniac and refused to slow down despite the ongoing screams of his traumatized passengers and the crying of children who had so recently been in a bus accident. After two or three hours of this pseudo-torture, we arrived in Lima. Collecting our bags, I was greatly subtlety relieved to never need set foot on a Peruvian bus again.

Bolivia Review

From Salar de Uyuni

It has been more than three seeks since my last post and a lot has happened. In shortened form, here is what I have been up to:

Gran Poder

The day after our arrival in La Paz was a huge religous festival, known as Gran Poder. There is dancing and drinking in the street and a parade of costumed dancers from all corners of Bolivia that lasts from 6:00 am until well after 8:00 pm. Eve, Mary and I went to the parade in the morning, before heading back to our hostal in the afternoon. That evening we went out again to enjoy the festivities, eat shishkababs made from cow heart and potato and drink beer and chicha morada.

El Camino de la Muerte

Meeting in the mornining at our hostal, we ate breakfast with our group before loading into the chase vans for the trip up to la cumbre ("summit") at 4700m (15,420 feet). From there, we road downhill, descending 3520m (11,549 feet), to the village of Yolosa at an altitude of 1180m (3,871 feet). The first part of the trip was along the new, paved road. Then second part was over the old, true "death road," so named because it was the most dangerous roads in the world, before the construction of the new road three years ago. The road is narrow and unpaved and there are sections where great waterfalls cascade over the track from cliffs high above. Despite the small amount of traffic it recieved, each year hundreds of people plummeted to their deaths in busses that would drive off cliffs hundreds of meters high. The road is still used by local coca farmers and adventure-seeking cyclists.

In retrospect, descending the camino de la muerte was perhaps riskier than I had anticipated. There were several crosses indicating where tourists like ourselves had lost control of their bikes and fallen to their deaths. Indeed, according to our guide, there are tourists dying every few months. The natural danger of the route is compounded by the poor quality of the bikes that we had. Mary had a tire blow out, Eve and I had trouble keeping our chains on and my rear brakes failed twice. All of us were fortunate to have this happen on "safe" sections of the road. I hate to think what would have become of us had we been unfortunate enough to encounter these problems while rounding a corner above a cliff 100 meters high.

La Paz and Food Poisoning

Back in La Paz, we went out to eat with Derek, a Kiwi travelling journalist we had met on the camino de la muerte. I ate some street food that, by the middle of the night, had made me quite ill. I spent the next two days recovering on antibiotics.

Huayna Potosi

Eve, Mary and I set out to climb Huayna Potosi when I was finally feeling better. Mary was a little slow in the morning, and by the time we reached the trailhead, it was clear that she was not doing well at all. It seemed that she was coming down with whatever I had had. We hiked back from the trailhead to the glaciar viejo (4800m/15,750 feet) where we made camp for the night. Mary decided to bivy so that she would not wake us up if she needed to use the bathroom. This was quite generous, considering that the temperature at night was going to be well below freezing.

The next morning, after packing up our camp, Eve and I decided to climb up to the campo roca (5200m/17,000 feet) at the snout of the glacier. Mary would stay behind, and when she was feeling better, climb down to the trailhead and catch a ride back to La Paz. After a few hours of climbing, we reached the camp and set our tent on a narrow platform, surrounded by the tents of other parties. After lounging in the sun all afternoon, we decided to start preparing for the upcoming climb. While I was making water from snow collected off the glacier, who should walk into camp but Mary! This was truly an amazing surprise, considering how ill she had been the night before.

That night, Eve and I set out at around midnight. We were the first rope team on the glacier and started climbing by the light of the moon and stars, which were so bright on the now that we did not need our headlamps to follow the tracks in the snow. We climbed steadily, resting only rarely. There were a huge number of climbers on the mountain and from above we could look back on the flicker of forty tiny lights in neat rows moving up the glacier below us. Nearly all of the other climbers were guided and inexperienced. This lead to bottlenecks at a few sections on the route. We climbed through the night, depite these annoyances, and by sunrise had climbed to above 5900m (19,000 feet).

Eve was exhausted, but determined to climb to above 6000 m. We reached the wall up to the summit ridge and, after waiting our turn, began climbing upwards. The exposure and angle were moderate as we climbed a snow slope up to a band of rock and dirt. This scared Eve a little. The rock and dirt were poorly heald together by fast-melting ice. Still, we made it over this section together and onto the kinfe-edge summit ridge at 6060m (19,882 feet). To the east we had views of the Amazon basin, to the north and south, the lesser peaks of the Cordillera Real, and to the west, the vast expanse of Lake Titicaca and the great volcanos of the Cordillera Occidental on the Chilean border. Ultimately, we decided that it was not worth climbing to the summit itself (6088m), a small mound of snow a few meters away, given the long line of climbers waiting for their chance to plant their feet on top and snap a few photos. Instead, we rested where we were for awhile to regain some strength and calm our nerves, while watching the spectacle of climbers at the summit.

After waiting for a break in the procession of climbers, we got in line, and then headed back to more level ground. Once off the ridge, and after a quick but necessary bathroom break in a crevasse, we started back down the mountain. We were tired and thirsty and made slow progress. Still, by 11:00 am we were back in camp where both Eve and I napped briefly before helping Mary finish packing up. We hiked back down to the trailhead and met the taxi at 3:00 pm. We were an hour late but, as fate would have it, so was our driver, so ultimately neither had to wait for the other.

Sucre and Tarabuco

The next evening we took a night bus to Sucre, the constitutional capitol of Bolivia. The cleanliness and architectual harmony of Sucre, also know as the ciudad blanca ("white city") was a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of La Paz.

The morning of our arrival, Eve and I (Mary was still feeling sick) took a bus to Tarabuco to experience its famous Sunday market. This was a bit of a tourist trap, but fun nonetheless. Was purchased a few more textiles and had lunch before heading back to our hostal that afternoon. At lunch, we had met a French couple and agreed to meet them for dinner, which ended up begin a lot of fun.

The next day, we organized an afternoon guided tour of the city. Mary, still not feeling well despite the antibiotics she had been taking, decided to sit this out as well. Our guide, a student at the university, was a lot of fun and a fountain of information on the history of Sucre, Bolivia, and the revolution, as well as the different ethnic groups that lived in the area. We visited two museums, learning about the broad differences between ethnic groups in Bolivia, and more detailed explanations of the differences between textiles from the Tarabuco and Jalq'a peoples. Mary, feeling better, joined us for dinner at La Taverne, a French Restaurant with excellent food and wine.

Potosi and Cerro Rico

The next afternoon, we took a bus to Potosi, which at an altitude of over 4000m (13,000 feet) is considered the highest "city" in the world. Potosi is the sight of Cerro Rico, an infamous silver mine that during the XVI century, made potosi one of the largest and richest cities in the world, rivaled only by Paris, London and Seville. Today, the mine is still in operation and remains the central activity of the local popultaion.

The night of our arrival, I started feeling ill again. After skipping dinner, I woke up in the middle of the night sick as a dog. I missed my scheduled tour of the mines and spent the next day in bed. Mary was also still feeling ill and Eve had homework, so we all spent the day in our hostal. That night Eve got sick too. The next day, feeling better, I got up and went on the mine tour. The tour was outstanding. It was highly educational and gave a first-hand look at the hellish conditions under which the miners struggle to earn between 10 and 50 Bolivianos ($1.40-$7.10) per day.

The Salar de Uyuni

The next day we left Potosi for Uyuni and the Salar, the world's largest salt lake (more than twice the size of the Great Salt Lake in Utah). We arrived, checked into a hostal and found a hired a guide for a three-day tour.

The next morning we left for the Salar. We were in a Lexus 470 SUV with three Swiss-Germans (Olivia, Raphael, and Christian). We first stopped at the Train Graveyard, where there were a number of rusted locamotives on narrow-guage track from the hay-day of british train building in South America. From there we travelled to a salt-producing village on the edge of the Salar, where salt was stacked (8-10 days), then speard flat (2-3 days), then baked (to remove the water) and then ground, idodized and bagged. The work is all done by hand and the salt is sold for next to nothing. From here we traveled out onto the Salar itself, a vast expanse of white salt 5-6m (16-19 feet) thick to a "salt hotel" built from salt blocks where we ate lunch. From here we continued to the island Incahuasi ("house of the Inca"), about half way across the Salar. The island is covered by cactus, petrified coral from when the lake and was higher, and is the home to viscachas, although no one knows for sure how they got there across so many kilometers of lifless salt. From the island, we travelled to our hostal, also made of salt bricks, on the edge of the Salar. After dropping off our luggage we got back into the truck and drove over to a rock outcropping where there was a pre-Incan burial site and a cave filled with fosilized algae. From here we watched the sun set on the winter soltice over the Salar before returning to the hostal for dinner, folk music and a good night's sleep.

The next morning, we got up before sunrise and, after breakfast and packing the truck, left for our first stop: the army of rocks. These formations were made from folsilized coral also from the period when the lake was higher. From here we drove to the border with Chile, where there was a feria, at which the locals were trading and exchanging news from the two contries. As such, we were able to set foot in Chile, and can claim that we visited this country on our voyage. We then piled back in and travelled to some lava flows at the foot of a chain of volcanos. We then continued on to the colored lakes. The first was the laguna Cañapa where we were able to get close to a group of vicuñas eating at the edge of the lake. We then went to the laguna Hedionda where we watched flamingos before eating lunch. From here we travelled past three more lakes, stopping to take a look at a fox, before continuing to a high desert and a lookout over the "mountain of seven colors." We then made our way to the arbol de piedra ("tree of stone") for photos before finding our way to the laguna Colorado, a lake that is red in color due to a combination of minerals and algae. It is also home to a huge population of flamingos. Our hostal was just a short ride from the lake. Here we ate dinner, played with some of the local boys before heading off to bed.

The next morning, we got up early to head off to the lagunas Blanca and Verde in the extreem southwest of Bolivia. We arrived shortly before sunrise with great views over both lakes. After sunrise, we drove back towards the laguna Colorado. There we ate breakfast and bathed in the hotsprings at the edge of the lake. We then drove to some paintpots (think Yellowstone) and at an altitude of over 4800m (15,750 feet), we attained the highest point of out trip. From here, we travelled to the desert of Salvador Dali, so named because of the strange rock outsroppings found there. We continued to descend all the way back to the laguna Colorado and then into a wide valley filled with llamas and where we were lucky enough to see a pair of Darwin's Rhea. We drove through open pastures before finally reacing the mining town of San Cristobal. This new boom-town was quite different from Potosi, as the mine here is private and new. The relative wealth of the locals, who can earn up to 10,000 Bs ($1,425) in one two-week shift in the mine, is evident in the well-maintained buidings and houses. We then continued driving until after sunset arriving at under the cover of dark in Uyuni.

Ultimately, this was an amazing experience: our guide Walter, an ex-miner (salt and silver), was outstanding. The scenery was otherworldy. The fauna were abundant.

Tupiza

As we were unable to find three seats in a bus to La Paz, we decided to join the Swiss, with whom we had become friends, south the Tupiza and ultimately the wine-growing region of Tarija. The bus left Uyuni early in the morning, stopping for a few hours in Atocha, a mining town high on the Altiplano. We left from Atocha at 10:00am for Tupiza, where were arrived, after a hot, bumpy and dusty ride a few hours later. There we immediately purchased tickets for the night bus to Tarija.

In Tupiza, we looked around for a hostal where we could keep our things for the afternoon and take showers. After setteling into a place, Eve, Olivia, Christian and I scheduled an after-lunch horseback trip up into the surrounding mountains. There are reminicent of the American Southwest: red in color and similarily eroded. We rode for an hour and a half, past the puerta del diablo, la valle de los machos and finally to el cañon del Inca. To my dismay, in the fading light, good photography was nearly impossible from horseback. Back in Tupiza, we showered and ate dinner before heading to the bus station.

The trip from Tupiza to Tarija was the worst bus ride of our entire time in South America. The bus was uncomfortable in the extreme: bags and bottles rained down on me from the overhead storage bins; the seats were dirty, cramped and broken; the road was impossibly dusty and rough; the driver whipped us around corners at breakneck speed. Needless to say, we arrived in Tarija at 3:00am totally exhausted.

Tarija and la Ruta del Vino

We slept in late our first day in Tarija and only Eve and I made it to breakfast. We hung out in Tarija for the day, recuperating from our restless ride and enjoying the Plaza, the cleanliness and the wealth brought to the city by the combination of booming trade in wine, cocaine and natural gas. It was a welcome change from the grime and poverty of Uyuni and the rest of the altiplano. (Indeed, the stark contrast between the dust and poverty of the altiplano and the relative prosperity of certain cities like Tarija and Sucre is becoming a defining characteristic of my Bolivian experience.)

The next day, we got up late again and then, after breakfast, took a tour of three wineries. We were a little dissapointed to learn that Bolivian winery tours typically do not inculde tastings! This is unfortunate not only for us, but I imagine, the amount of wine that the wineries sell to tourists. Indeed the only winery to offer free tastings had atrocious wine (think "von Stihl" from Wisconsin) but sold loads of the crap to the tour group right before ours. Following our tour, we relaxed more, drinking wine and beer late into the night at a local bar.

This brings me up to date. Today we take the bus back to La Paz, from where we will visit Lake Titicaca, before heading to Cusco, Peru and Machu Pichu. It is hard for me to believe that we have fewer than three weeks before we will be back in the United States. There is so much detail that I have left out of the preceeding account and still so much more to see in all the countries we have visited. And when I look at a map and relalize that we have seen so little of this continent, I know that I will be back, someday, to see more. It is now my only consulation at having experienced so little.

Chopicalqui

From Chopicalqui

Yesterday, I returned from a successful climb of Chopicalqui (6354 m/20,846 ft), the fourth highest summit in the Cordillera Blanca of Peru. Climbing with me were Mark, from Germany, and Jim, from Australia.

Our trip started out at 9:00 on the 26th of May when we met in Huaraz and hired a taxi to Yungay. On the way we were twice stopped by the police, who were doing random checks. They were unammused that our taxi driver was using his brother´s taxi and his brother´s taxi liscence. There dicontent, however, was remided with some smooth talk and a free copy of the newpapers our driver was delivering to vaious sites along the way.

We arrived in Yungay and soon hired another taxi to drive us to the trailhead. This time, our driver was personable, telling the local legend about the incestuous relationship between the two mountains Huascaran and Hunadoy, as well as teaching us Quechua names for the various plants we saw as we climbed up into the canyon. We stopped briefly at the park entrance to register, use a bathroon one last time, and get in a lst minute snack of papas con huevos that a Quechua woman was selling. After completing these formalities, we continued on our trip. It bears restating that the valley of the Lagunas Llanganuco has some of the most spectacular scenery I have ever seen. Finally arriving at our destination, we shouldered our packs a started off over the trail.

The trail climbed steadily through forests of polylepis to the base camp at 4300m (14,100 feet). Upon passing this, we promptly lost the trail and began floundering our way through steep fields of loose rock, boulders and paramo grass. With heavy packs, the going was rough. Finally, after climbing onto a high lateral moraine, we regained the trail and our former rate of progress. We had further route-finding difficulty, as we crossed the glacial trailings, a large field of boulders and loose rock, silt and ponds filled with green glacial melt water. Again, ascending onto an even higher moraine, we continued up towards the snout of the glacier itself. Under cloudy skies, we lacked the magnificent views that were to come. Nonetheless, the scenery was spectacular, with glaciers crashing down in a jumble of broken blue ice from the high peaks that surrounded us on all sides. As we made our way up the moraine, we found the trail washed out. We descended from the rim, onto more stable ground, and again began bushwacking. The going was steeper than before, and this combined with the altitude made for slow going. After more than an hour of hiking, we regained the lateral moraine and soon dragged ourselves into Moraine Camp (4800 m/15,750 feet).

Moraine Camp afforded us with all we could hope for: an abondant supply of fresh water, wonderful views and pre-made tent platforms large enough for our three-man mountain tent. We soon had the tent pitched and water boiling for dinner. After eating, we settled into our sleeping bags for a well-earned night of rest.


The next morning, we awoke at sunrise, which given our proximity to the equator, is always at about 6:00AM. The sky was crystal blue with the mountains shining brilliantly all around. We were in no rush. We only had about four hours of climbing to our next camp. We took our time sorting gear for a cache, drying sleeping bags and the tent, and eating breakfast. When the sun hit the rock wall directly behind our camp thousands of tiny peices of ice that had formed over night began breaking off and tinkling down the face. After a lazy morning, we were packed and ready to head up the glacier.

The glacier was perhaps 100 yards away from our camp, and once there, we put on crampons and ropped up. The glare of the sun was intense off the perfectly white surface of the glacier. Our progress was steady as we passed the mouths of massive crevasses 30 feet wide, yawning open, a thousand icicles dangling like inward pointing teeth. We watched with concern as large granite stones crashed down from the cliffs above smashing into our path. These areas of rock fall we passed quickly and with great trepedation. Finally, after an intense four hours, we found a flat spot protected from rock fall and avalnches and we decided to make camp. We had climbed to over 5530 m (18,100 feet).


After chopping a platform, no small feet with only our ice axes, was set up the tent. We dug out two wind shelters for the stoves. This is where I learned the hard way how truly poor the performance of canister stoves is in the cold. Frankly, my stove, which burned so hot at Moraine Camp, sucked on the glacier. We made plenty of water, ate a hearty dinner and prepared our gear in advance of our 2:30AM wake up. Once the sun set, the temperature on the glacier dropped quickly below freezing and we again made our way into the tent and the warmth and comfort of our sleeping bags.


At 2:30 the alarm awoke us from the light sleep at altitude. We quickly slid into our warm clothes and began preparations for the climb. Outside the tent, the moon had set making the stars seem to shine even more brilliantly, with the Milky Way streaking its way across the sky. Ever the slow one, I was last to tie in to the rope.

Jim took the lead, as he would for much of the climb, followed by Mark in the middle and me at the end. We climbed out of camp and up a steep slope. Passing a large crevasse, we came to an even steeper climb. Not knowing the way and not having the benefit of a trail, we decided to head south, over the the ridge proper. This took us up to an even steeper snow wall, looking unstable and overhanging a seemingly endless abyss. Neesless to say, we turned back for the steep snow climb we had seen earlier.


As the sun began to rise, we began to see the surrounding mountains in the light of dawn. Huascaran and Huadoy hovered in the sky, thousands of feet of rock and ice above the dark forest of the valley down below. We also were permitted our first look at our intended route. It seemed straight forward enough. At 6100 m (20,000 feet) we would cut up onto a snow ramp, make two simple traverses, and then climb a steep face to the saddle below the summit pyramid. However, as we climbed higher under the dawning day, the snow grew deeper and our progress slowed. Also, the thinning air made kicking steps a tiresome chore.


As we approached the snow ramp, we were already painfully behind schedule. With me in the lead, we traversed towards it in ever deepening snow. Exhausted, I made a stupid error: I decided to deviate from our chosen route, complaining about avalanche danger. Instead, I would climb the face directly. I figured this would have no more snow, but get us to our destination more directly, which would be both safer and faster. After a short struggle up a steep slope I traversed further to the left looking for easier passage. The steepness of the slope increased as I climbed towards a ridge and an easier ascent. The sugar snow common to the Cordillera Blanca would halt my upward progress and force me to traverse out of a "hole" I would dig myself into. I also was unable to go more than three or four steps before having to rest, my head againts the snow, due to the effects of the altitude. Finally I reached the ridge and was followed by Jim and Mark.

We climbed the ridge to a moderate slope where I hopped to traverse back onto our chosen route. The snow was n bad condition though: Three distinct layers of wind deposited snow were poorly bound and made for potentially high avalanche hazard. Given this, we decided to climb as high as we could before traversing. Switching leads again, we continued up and over for another ten minutes. It was late in the day. The snow was in bad shape. Our climbing was slow. The sun was beating down on us from above. It was not hard to see that we needed to turn around and no one protested when the decision was made to climb back down to stable ground. We diverged from our climb line, preferring instead to take the slope we had originally planned on and that I had avoided. Indeed, on the way down it was apparent that this would have been a far easier option than what we eventually climbed.

We made it back to the tent quickly, stopping only once to change out of our cold weather climbing gear, as the sun was again making the surface of the glacier oppressively hot. Near the bottom of our climb, my crampons began to ball badly. This was made all the more annoying by my deep exhaustion.

Back in camp, Mark went immediately to bed, while Jim and I made water and food. The idea to try again the next day had already come up, and if we could get rehydrated and refueled, we felt confident that we could make the summit. We would have a trail to climb to at least 6200m (20,300 feet) and we would not have the same difficulty with route finding. Jim and I constructed a solar snow melter, which allowed us to make about three liters of water without any fuel. We also found that the sun was intense enough that simply putting snow into our metal cooking pots would melt it. After much drinking, eating, and napping, we decided, with the help of route photos taken that morning, to try once again for the top.

The next morning started much like the first. We awoke at 2:30 and left camp at 4:00. This time though, with a solid trail, we covered in three hours the same ground it had taken us seven hours to cross the day before.

At 6200m, Mark was eager to avoid any traversing and so he and Jim started further up what had by then become known as the ridge route. I, on the other hand, felt the snow had improved sufficiently to allow us to traverse the slope onto the route I had seen the day before. As Jim climbed the ridge, I attended to building and anchor and further studying the snow. After perhaps twenty minutes of climbing, Jim reported down to Mark, that the ridge route was more difficult than it seemed for below. He figured it would take another two hours to put up the whole thing. He climbed back down to Mark so we could discuss what to do. Mark was unsure about the stability of the slope and weather, as there was fog coving the summit. I reassured him that the weather looked safe to me: all the surrounding peaks above 6000m were clearly visible and there were no signs of high wind. Also, digging in the snow had convinced me that the slope had stabilized enough to be safe to cross. With this information, we decided to traverse a bit and if anyone felt the slope was unsafe, we could turn back.

The snow felt solid and so, with me in the lead again, we set off. At some point, Mark suggested that I climb another steep snow slope to gain the level slope above. Once again, I set off on what would lead nowhere. After five minutes of climbing on progressively steeper terrain, this route was abandoned. Jim took over the lead that we continued across and then up onto a flat plane between two large crevasses. Here Jim attached the next slope, kick stepping up a steep wall to the col below the summit pyramid.

As we came up one-by-one, we got our first glimpse of the summit from so close. As the crux of the climb had been traversed safely, we savored the moment, taking a few photos, before setting off towards our goal. We traversed a narrow snow ridge, bordered by massive crevasses on either side, up to the base of the summit pyramid itself. The sun was shining brightly through the fog, making the air and snow humid, something we had not seen during our entire climb. Building anchors to belay our way over a shot ice wall, we made the summit pyramid proper with no real difficulty. From there, it was another climb through deep snow, with Jim in the lead, up a moderate slope.

On top we took a series of photos and ate and drank. It was a relief and pleasure to have completed the climb and I was disapointed only that the fog completely obscured our view of the surrounding mountains, with Huascaran, so close, only peeking through on rare occasions.

After a shot celebration, we turned to climb back down the mountain, reminding ourselves aloud that the majority of accidents happen on the way down. This, we hopped, would keep us vigilant. Retracing our steps we quickly made the traverse. This we had again grown nervous about, as the weather had turned suddenly warm, which increases avalanche risk. Still, the snow felt solid and we were quickly off the face, back down the ridge, and onto the relative safety of the flatter glacier. We stopped to rest and breathe a sigh of relief. We only had to worry about crevasses from here back to the tent. Starting off again, we made good progress, despite my crampons balling up as they had the day before. With me in the lead, we marched into camp at 2:30 in the afternoon, ten and a half hours after our start that morning.

Utterly exhausted, Jim and I set about making water again, as Mark fell into his sleeping bag. We would stay at Glacier Camp another night in order to recuperate enough strength for the climb down the next morning. Eating and drinking occupied the rest of the day and as night fell, each of us wrapped himself in his sleeping bag for some well-deserved rest.

The next day we packed up early, wanting to be off the glacier and the hazard of rock fall before 8:30. With Mark setting pace, we flew down the ice and were back at Moraine Camp in a little more than an hour. It was nice to be back where there was liquid water. I set my tent out to dry on the rocks as we filled our water bottles and unpacked our cache. Soon we were back on the moraine ridge and, this time, with the aid of a trail and the descent, we made rapid progress. We passed quickly through the boulder field at the bottom of the glacier (where we met some Czech climbers) and down to base camp and the road.

The climb finished, we dropped our bags to rest in the sun and wait for someone to come by who could offer us a ride back to Yungay. Eventually, a cattle truck rolled down the pass and when we flagged them down, they agreed to drive us back to Yungay. We climbed into the back, hoisting our bags over the side, and took seats on tires or tarps, next to the campesinos who we would accompany on the ride out. The views were fantastic and in a little more than an hour we were back in Yugay, from where we took a combi to Huaraz and our respective hostels.

To see a slide show of photos from our climb on Chopicalqui, check out my Picasa Web Album.

The Month of May

My last post was quite some time ago and since then, as you can imagine, a lot has happened. Below is a brief narrative with links to photos of each stage in our journey.

We left Quito and took a night bus to Loja, from where we traveled to Vilcabamba. There we ran into our friends Andy and Loren, who were in town for the weekend before heading back out to their farm.

From Vilcabamba, we took a bus to Piura on the northern coast of Peru. During this trip we met Dan, and American traveller who until recently had been living in Portland. In Piura, we switched onto a bus to Chiclayo, where we stayed with Dan for a few nights, saw some ruins and went to some museums, as well as the beach. After saying good-bye to Dan, we we took a bus from Chiclayo to Trujillo, from where we caught a collectivo to the beach town of Huanchaco. In Huanchaco, we took surfing lessons and saw some more ruins. From Huanchaco we took a collectivo back to Trujillo and then a bus to Chimbote. In Chimbote we changed onto another bus to Huaraz.

Huaraz is at the heart of the Cordillera Blanca, a mountain range in central Peru reputed to be among the most beautiful in the world. Since our arrival here, we have hiked to the Laguna Churup, gone backpacking in the valley of the Quebrada Quillcayhuanca, and completed the famous Santa Cruz Trek.

Last night, Mary and Eve left for Areaquipa, while I stayed on in Huaraz looking desperately for climbing partners with whom to climb some of the mountains here. I plan to rejoin the girls either at Lake Titicaca or in La Paz.

I apologize for the lack of significant detail. I am sure to regret not writing down more of what has happened, as I can already feel the effects of memory fading. In the future, I will endeavor to be more diligent.

Dear Reader,

OK, I've been able to cut the backlog in half. I now only have two outstanding posts: Quilotoa and Cuicocha. You can already see pictures from these trips on my Picasa Web Albums. Soon, I will be updating the blog with a narrative account of our adventures in these two unique and beautiful places.

In other news, We are leaving Quito definitively in a few hours. This is at once exciting and sad. Ecuador has been so wonderful that we are certain to miss it dearly.

Cotopaxi

From Cotopaxi

Eve and I returned from Cotopaxi National Park Saturday afternoon. Our goal while in the park was to climb Cotopaxi Volcano (5897m), the second highest peak in Ecuador.

We left for Cotopaxi at around noon on Wednesday, April 29th. After walking down to the Occidental, we caught a bus to the Terminal Terrestre and, from there, another bus south towards the park entrance. Eve bought some chips and napped as we neared our destination.

The south entrance is nothing more than a collection of small buildings, a sign and a dusty dirt road leading east from the Panamerican Highway. We shouldered our packs and began to walk. We passed a shuttered store advertising climbing equipment for sale and rent. This only added to the desolate nature of where we found ourselves. Too this, dump trucks passing from a nearby gravel mine choked the air with a fine brown dust. We finally came to a café where I inquired about transport into the park. Apparently, this could be had at a tienda across the football field of the village. Instead of walking to the tienda, we walked back out to the highway. There we waited for a few minutes until a white pickup truck pulled up and the driver asked if we needed a ride to the refugio. Eve said we did. It had begun to rain as we loaded the bags into the truck and began the long and bumpy ride up to the parquadero.

We were both a little nervous about passing into the park. As we intended to climb Cotopaxi without a guide, we risked being turned away at the park entrance. Not that it is not allowed to climb independently, just that if you do so, then, for reasons of insurance, you cannot hire transportation into the park. As we approached the park entrance, a group of people were standing around near a truck. Our driver wisely pulled to a stop some distance from the group and got out with our $20 to pay the park entry fee. He returned to the truck after a few minutes, his breath smelling of alcohol. He informed us that the park employees were celebrating May Day early and that we had been granted entry into the park. So, we continued up the road, much relieved.

When we got to the main road up to the refugio, we soon fell in behind a taxi. The taxi was having sime difficulty negotiating the road, as it was dirt, steep and in mediocre condition. Eventually, the taxi could not make it any further and so the passengers got out to push. As this was quite obviously getting them nowhere, our driver got out and offered the passengers a ride, promising that at the parking lot, the thick fog that had enveloped us would be gone, or at least would all blow away in the next ten minutes, revealing the volcano. With Eve translating, two of the four passengers hopped into the bed of the pickup.

We arrived at the parquadero just after four in the afternoon. The two Poles from the taxi hopped out and began walking in the fog, uphill and ostensibly towards the refugio. We redistributed the climbing gear we had hidden in the green duffel bag. Looking around we could see, despite the fog, that we had already largely left the world of the living as the vegetation was extremely sparse and there was no sign of animal life anywhere. We shouldered our packs once again and headed up a wide trail in soft, volcanic sand. After thirty to forty minutes of toil, we finally arrived at the yellow-roofed refugio, which appeared all at once out of the fog.

In the refugio, we asked about possible places to camp. We were directed up a path to the west of the refugio, where indeed we found a half dozen tent sites consisting of rock circles surrounding level platforms of pumice and sand. We chose the largest one and began to set up camp at 4868 m (15,971 feet).

I made dinner and soon thereafter Eve and I snuggled into our double sleeping bag, that Eve would soon baptize the empanada. Just before finally falling asleep, I peeked out of the tent. The fog had lifted and high above the clouds, the summit of Cotopaxi greeted us for the first time from far above in the fading light.

The following day dawned with slightly better weather. From our camp we had impressive views of essentially all the major peaks to the north: Los Ilinizas, El Corazon, Ruminahui, Pichincha, Pasochoa, Cotocachi, Sincholagua, Cayambe and, most impressive of all, Antisana glistening blinding white in the rising sun. The barometer was on the rise (from 559 millibars up to 569 millibars) so we decided to do some training, meaning teaching Eve how to build snow anchors and practicing ascending our rope with prussiks. After breakfast, we lounged in the tent for most of the morning as it rained, hailed, and snowed intermittently. Finally, in the afternoon, things were looking good enough to warrant a look about. We packed the bag and headed up to the snow.

On the way up, we passed some Ecuadorian high-school students who had come to Cotopaxi with their class. Four boys had stripped to their underwear and were standing in the snow, posing for photos in front of their classmates and teacher, who incidentally didn’t seem to mind at all. Then the boys pulled down their underwear, covering their genitals with their hands. This was cause for even more laughter and photos. Needless to say, these boys were not shy around their peers.

After this spectacle, Eve and I continued up to the snow, eventually choosing a spot to do some anchor building. After showing Eve how to place a “deadman” anchor, she built her own, despite her extreme discomfort owing to the cold and snow. Her deadman completed, we walked back in the fog down to our tent.

Happy to be back warm in her empanada, I made Eve hot tea and dinner. We warmed together in the sleeping bad and drifted off to sleep.

I awoke before daylight with a feeling of dread. I could hear the wind blowing outside, but our tent fly was making no noise of any kind. For an instant, I feared we had been buried under the night’s snowfall, but the tent walls were not sagging and, peering out under the fly, I could see that only a dusting of snow had fallen during the night. I reached out and touched the fly. It was cold and rigid. Our tent was covered in a layer of ice. Tapping the fly lightly sent shards of ice tinkling down the side of the tent to the ground. Relieved, I soon found sleep again.

The next morning was May Day, and so we expected a large number of tourists. It was also slated to by our rest day, as we were to climb that night. The weather had continued to improve, but we learned that the icing the night before had been rain on the mountain. This can be devastating to a climb, as rain weakens snow, making it prone to avalanches and increasing the risk of crevasse fall. The summit was out and when the sun did peak through the clouds, our tent quickly grew uncomfortably hot.

Wanting to hike before the crowds rolled in, we soon set out up the ridge to the snow field. After a bit of a scramble across loose gravel, we made it up to the glacier. The sounds of the glacier creaking, groaning and echoing with the dripping with water was unnerving to Eve.We took a GPS reading, verifying that Eve was indeed above 5000m for the first time. We snapped a few photos, before heading back down to the tent for lunch, which was to be Eve’s last pre-climb meal.

On the way back down, I picked up a discarded rice sack, probably left by someone using it as a sled. Both Eve and I had been dismayed by the amount of garbage everywhere, consisting mainly of plastic bottles and food wrappers. Soon Eve and I had each collected a large bag of trash from around the campsites and along the trail. It was distressing to find so much garbage, much of which had been intentionally placed under rocks, littering a national park and place of such otherwise breathtaking beauty. We hauled our bags over to the refugio and asked to dispose of them. The caretaker thanked us and lamented the fact that touristas nacionales (i.e. Ecuadorians) were responsible for so much of the littering. They simply do not have the same environmental ethic as park employees or foreign tourists come to see Cotopaxi.

After lunch and a short rest back in the tent, we headed over to the refugio once again, this time to wait for our climbing partner Fabian to arrive from Ambato. Fabian was a friend of our neighbor Joe in Chicago who first put Fabian and I in contact with one another. After several hours of waiting, Fabian had not shown up and Eve and I began to doubt seriously whether he would. As time wore on, I became increasingly glad to have rented a rope and a could pickets along with Eve’s climbing gear. While waiting, Eve had struck up a conversation with the other climbing teams in the refugio. Three were guided while the other group, like us, was independent. All offered that we climb with them and an American named Jannah even lent us her cell phone to use as an alarm clock. Relieved not to be entirely on our own, we headed back to the tent for dinner (for me, at least) and a nap before the climb. Our packs packed, we wrapped up in our sleeping bags against the deep chill of night.

Due no doubt to the excitation and anticipation of the climb, however, we slept very little. At three minutes to midnight, we began getting dressed. At midnight, our alarm went off. Getting ready and repacking our bags for the climb, about twenty minutes passed before we were ready and left for the refugio. There, we found the other climbers eating breakfast and organizing their own gear. Eve and I sorted out our rope while waiting in the light of half a dozen headlamps for the others to be ready.

At 1:15AM we set out in light fog. The pace was slow, which allowed me to warm up, and soon we arrived at the snow. There we put on our crampons and some teams roped up.

The snow had a layer of wind slab about four inches thick covering a single wet layer of unconsolidated summer snow at least three feet deep. Unfortunately, the previous night’s rain had not yet dried nor frozen. Given the low angle of the slope and the thickness of the wet layer, we figured that an avalanche was only likely in the afternoon, but that if there was an avalanche, it would be big. Weighing these factors, we decided to keep climbing but to turn around at first light, so as to be off this particular slope before midday. Hopefully, the snow would solidify as we climbed higher and the night advanced.

While studying the snowpack, we fell in behind a guided group climbing at a painfully slow pace. Cold quickly began to overtake us, as the wind picked up and we were no longer moving quickly enough to stay warm.

Finally, we made it to the glacier. Great walls of blue ice dangling with icicles surrounded us on all sides and the shadows cast by our headlamps gave the night a demonic feel. Roping up, Eve and I continued past ice cliffs twenty feet high and around gaping crevasses bridged by drifted snow. We continued climbing hour by hour, but advancing much too slowly, I realized, to have a realistic shot at the summit by sunrise. The pace became maddeningly slow, but there was nothing to do, as we could not pass the team in front of us unless they stopped to rest.

Eventually, we were able to pull ahead, leaving the lower glacier and climbing onto a broad ridge. By this time the batteries in my headlamp, charged the night before our departure, began to give out and so the beam of my headlamp began to slicker annoyingly. Also, Eve, frightened, exhausted and cold, would stop suddenly, if only for a moment, to catch her breath. This would cause me to jerk the rope, throwing us both of balance. As my headlamp continued to flicker, Eve’s gave up completely. Bravely, and lit only by the lamps of those climbing behind her, she continued on in the dark. A light fog had settled around us, limiting our visibility and the monotony of the trail made it difficult to gauge our progress. Still, every hour we would stop to rest and our altimeter showed we were slowly nearing our goal with each step.

Dawn broke with us 300 meters below the summit. Two teams descending from above reported that the snow on the upper mountain was in bad shape with verglas and avalanche danger ever present. Because of this, they had been forced to turn back. Relief washed over Eve’s face, as we decided to turn around.

We stayed for a moment at 5560 m (18,241 feet) as the day grew brighter and the fog lifted. We were high above the clouds, standing in the sun on a wide expanse of perfect white rolling hills of snow, ice cliffs and crevasses glistening blue. The summit ridge loomed invitingly above us. Finally, content to have made it this far and committed to our planed turn around time, we prepared to leave. I ran up the ridge to 5580 m (18,308 feet) to have a look, one last time at the trail to the top, then returned down to Eve. I was bothered to rely on the judgment of others that the climb was not possible, but happy to be where I was with Eve. We took some pictures before returning down the mountain.

The hike down was more beautiful than words can describe. Huge masses of ice tumbled down the slopes to our right in a great ice fall. Our trail led us back over mostly stable terrain. The few crevasses we crossed yawned menacingly as we traversed them on frozen bridges of snow-covered ice. We left the glacier and continued down the slope of concern regarding avalanches. We found the snow pack much more stable after the cold night, to our relief.

We unroped and stowed our crampons before continuing back to the refugio. There, we rested a moment, discussing the climb, before heading over to the tent. After dropping off our packs, I went back to the refugio to use the bathroom, and when I returned to the tent, I found Eve fast asleep on her pad. She awoke momentarily to wrap herself in my sleeping bag before falling instantly back asleep.

After perhaps twenty minutes, I awoke Eve. She complained that her boots had hurt her foot, so I took a look at it. Her nail of her big toe was bruised and black. I told her I figured she would lose it in the next few days, as I gave her some ibuprofen for the pain. We began packing up our camp and soon were ready to heft our packs for the hike back to the parquadero. We said good-bye to the caretakers at the refugio and soon were back in the parquadero where we caught a ride to the Panamerican and from there a bus back to Quito.

To see a slide show of photos from our climb on Cotopaxi, check out my Picasa Web Album.

My Parent's Visit to Ecuador

From Ruco Pichincha

For my thirtieth birthday, Eve invited my parents to Ecuador for a whirlwind tour. As Mary, Eve and I had been expecting them for some time, we were able to organize a number of activities for their all-too-short stay.

SUNDAY

Mary and I went to the airport to meet my parents Sunday night. Their flight was delayed by forty minutes but, soon enough, they had landed and collected their bags. Together at long last, we took a taxi back to the casa, where Eve had prepared dinner for all. However, after their long flight, neither my mom nor dad were hungry, so we packed the food into the refrigerator before heading off to bed.

MONDAY

We had scheduled our van and driver to meet us in front of the casa at 7:00 am and so had to get up early. We met our driver, Xavier, and left for the north. The traffic in Quito was heavy, but after perhaps half an hour, we had made it into the country surrounding the capital.

Our first stop was the equator. Instead of visiting the Mitad del Mundo, we crossed near the town of Cayambe. Hopping out of the van, we took some pictures before continuing into town. In Cayambe, we stopped off at a biscocha (a semi-sweet biscuit renowned in Cayambe) bakery where we watched as a team of bakers prepare and bake biscocha in a wood-fired oven. We then treated ourselves to fresh-baked biscocha, fresh cheese and hot chocolate.

From Cayambe, we continued north to San Antonio de Ibarra, a village famous for its wood carving. In San Antonio, we found that the overwhelming majority of the carving was of religious iconography. Brightly painted statues of an agonizing Christ on the cross abounded. There were also smaller statues of animals, a particular hobo-like figure, musicians and nudes. Abstract art, in my opinion the most interesting, was also available, however in smaller numbers. There were also wooden boxes and utensils, but those I saw did not seem like they were of very high quality. All-in-all I was a little disappointed: I had been led to believe that the carving was artistic, whereas what I found was mostly mass-produced kitsch.

From San Antonio, we traveled back to Laguna Cuicocha, where we admired the lake under light rain for a few minutes before heading back to Cotacachi for lunch and leather. After a satisfying meal, our driver Xavier left us to have the brakes on his van, which had been giving him trouble all morning, looked at. The rest of us walked from shop to shop admiring the many goods on hand for sale. Unfortunately, as we had taken our lunch early, many of the shops were closed. Still, we were able to see quite a bit nonetheless and as the afternoon wore on, the shops, one by one, began to open their doors again. Ultimately, my dad purchased a sturdy belt and my mom a leather satchel.

From Cayambe we drove to Otavalo and the textile market. I will not attempt to list all that was purchased. Suffice it to say that both my parents, Eve and Mary enjoyed themselves thoroughly. My mom, however, found herself uncomfortable bargaining hard with the vendors, especially considering how much further a few dollars goes in Ecuador than in the United States. As such, she probably overpaid but without any real loss.

From Otavalo, we headed back to Quito, stopping off briefly so that Xavier could purchase roses, which are grown by the millions in the region, from a road-side vendor. Incidentally, flowers – especially roses – are a major export from Ecuador and the quality and beauty of what they produce cannot be overstated. Moreover, purchasing a dozen long-stem roses from a grower only costs $1.25, which is inexpensive even by Ecuadorian standards. (When we were back in the van, Xavier got a laugh when we told him that such fine roses in Alaska cost upwards of $3.00 each!) Finally back in Quito, Xavier dropped us at the casa where we said our good-byes – all in all a great way to spend my birthday.

TUESDAY-WEDNESDAY

Our original intention was to head south to Riobamba for the famous train ride over the Nariz del Diablo. However, we had learned from Xavier the night before that a landslide had closed the tracks from Riobamba to Alosi. We could still have taken the train from Alosi, but it was a six to seven hour bus ride from Quito and the train ride itself would have been quite short. Furthermore, the actual train was not running and so we would have been in buses converted to run on track. As such, we opted to go to the town of Baños instead.

We got up early again and went down to the Terminal Terrestre where we caught a bus to Ambato. In Ambato we hopped off the bus and, to our surprise, ran into Alex and Alex, the two Australians we had met in Quiltoa. We talked for a few moments before getting on another bus bound for Baños.

The ride down the valley out of the sierra and towards the jungle was quite scenic, despite overcast skies. In Baños, Mary got some money from an ATM before we continued to our hostel, recommended to us by Alex and Alex. From the roof-top terrace, we had gorgeous views of Baños and the surrounding hills. After getting settled, everyone, save Mary who was not feeling well, ate lunch at a restaurant before changing into our bathing suits and walking over to the baths, Baños namesake. The baths themselves were nice and soaking in a pool of hot water for more than an hour at the foot of the beautiful waterfall Manto de la Virgen (Virgin´s Veil) was truly wonderful. After the spas, Eve my mom and I went for a walk through town and over to the river, as my dad and Mary slept. Returning from our tour, we rounded up most everyone and drank a beer on the terrace before heading out for dinner at a French restaurant, were my mom and I split a delicious fondue bourguignonne. We also got a laugh out of another tourist who was wearing a table runner, obviously purchased from an indigenous market, as a shall. Finishing the meal, we returned to our hostel for bed.

The next day we decided to tour the many waterfalls found near Baños. The river that runs next to Baños is called the Pastaza and cuts a deep canyon into the valley floor. The many tributaries of the Pastaza flow down from the surrounding mountains that then cascade spectacularly over the canyon edge. After visiting some of the outlying villages, we caught a bus to the village of Río Verde (Green River). The río itself was indeed endowed with emerald green waters and the setting of the village in a deep, lush subtropical valley was breathtaking. My mom and Mary, feeling tired, decided to rest in the village, while my dad, Eve and I headed down the trail to see where the Río Verde tumbles into the Pastaza. After a short walk down into the canyon, we came to the Pailón del Diablo (Devil´s Cauldron), which to say the least, is well worth the $1.00 entry fee. After standing above the crushing thunder of water coming over the cliff edge, we began climbing down to the lower viewing platform. This would prove folly. Near the lowest platform (balcon 4), a huge blast of water from the falls washed over the three of us like a wave in the ocean. Instantly, we were soaked to the bone. Laughing from surprise, I quickly retreated to the safety of the upper platforms to take stock of my clothing and camera. Fortunately, my camera was safe inside my coat, but my jeans, like those of Eve and my dad, were a sopping wet mess. After admiring the falls for a few more minutes, we headed back up the trail to my mom and Mary.

Back in Río Verde, we got lunch and then walked out to the road to catch a bus back up towards Baños and our next stop, the Manto de la Novia (Bridalveil Falls). Unlike the Río Verde, which flows into the Pastaza from the north, the Chinchín flows into the Pastaza from the south, which meant crossing over the canyon in a cable car from the road to the village of Chinchín on the opposite side. The ride over the valley was exciting and the views of the falls were quite spectacular. Stopping in Chinchín for a few minutes to walk around, we admired the numerous wild orchids growing along the trail to the cliff edge. Returning back over the canyon was equally exciting with wonderful views in every direction.

Back in Baños, our pants dry once again, we picked up our bags from our hostel and then headed over to a café for hot chocolate, before walking over to the bus station to purchase our tickets back to Quito. At the bus station, Mary bought some sugar cane to chew while we waited for our bus to come. The ride back up the valley into the sierra afforded us with beautiful view of a snow-capped Tungurahua (5018m), the volcano hemming in Baños to the south. Unfortunately, at some point during the ride back to Quito, my dad, who had already misplaced his bathing suit at the baths, lost his jacket to thieves while he slept.

THURSDAY-FRIDAY

I woke up my dad and we walked up the street to the bridge over to the barrio of San Vincente, from where we had beautiful views of Cayambe, Antisana and Cotopaxi.

Back at the house, we showered and breakfasted. Mom and Dad decided to go with me up the Teleferico to go for a hike and take in the views of Quito. We took a taxi over to the bottom of the park, from where we caught a shuttle up to the base of the lift. After purchasing our tickets, we rode up the mountain. Unfortunately, the valley had filled with haze, obscuring our views of the surrounding volcanoes. Once we had arrived at the top of the lift, we began our walk. We strolled along slowly, enjoying the view of Quito and the many different wild flowers the line the trail. At the top of each hill, mom decided that she would like to hike to the next one, taking us a little higher and a little farther down the trail. Eventually, we had climbed well above 4000m and were quickly approaching 14,000 feet. Knowing that Eve and Mary had made us lunch, we decided eventually to turn around.

Back at the casa Mary and Eve had lunch prepared. After eating, mom and dad took a nap until late in the afternoon. At around 4:00, we took the bus down to the Mariscal. We walked to the old city, visiting the Basilica and the Plaza Grande before getting a drink and taking in the view of Quito by night from the roof-top restaurant Vista Hermosa. Afterwards, we walked over to Plaza San Francisco, admiring the cathedral. From there we stopped at a pharmacy to pick up some Amoxicilin for Mary, whose cough, caught in Quilotoa, had degenerated into pneumonia. From there we walked over to La Ronda, bought canalazo, a hot alcoholic drink and continued our stroll. At one point, we stopped off for corn tortillas of the Ecuadorian variety, and more canalazo. We eventually made our way to a small restaurant, where we ate dinner. After dinner, we squeezed everyone into a taxi. The traffic police were not happy with our driver for letting Eve ride on my lap, but they let us proceed and in short order we were back at the casa again, where we had a night cap of Quaker con augardiente.

Everyone was slow to get moving on Friday morning. After a late breakfast, we once again headed to the Mariscal. We went shopping at Tatoo (a climbing store) for Mary, buying leather conditioner for her boots, DWR spray for her jacket, and a pair of thick hiking socks to help overt the blisters that had been plaguing her on our outings. After leaving the store, we stopped off at Pichincha so that my parents could meet Franklin. After introductions had been made, we went for lunch at a small restaurant near the school. The food was a disappointment, but cheap. After lunch, we went over to Cotopaxi (another climbing store) and dad bought me a new pair of glacier glasses (Thanks, Dad!) and from there we caught the trolley-bus to the old city.

In the old city, we wanted to visit some churches and Mom and Mary wanted to purchase some yarn. In total, we visited Santa , the museum at San Francisco (the church was under renovation) and the Comapnia de Jesus, a Jesuit church. These were all fantastic, leaving everyone quite impressed. Afterwards, we found a yarn store and went looking for alpaca wool yarn. We found some advertised as !00% alpaca. This was strange as the word (acrilico) had been blackened out with a marker. I went to another yarn store nearby to investigate. Indeed, all “alpaca” yarn sold in Quito is between 80-90% acrylic. I returned to tell Mom. She was not surprised that his was the case and eventually purchased a number of different skeins. After purchasing the yarn, we went to a restaurant recommended by our guide book. This turned out to be a disappointment as well, unfortunately. I ordered llapingachos, which are cheese-filled potato pancakes. Normally, three come served with a fried egg and a slice of avocado. Not only was my egg missing, but I was only served one lousy llapingacho, not nearly enough to constitute a whole meal. Anyhow, following dinner, we returned home.

Back at the casa mom and dad prepared their bags. That morning, we had handed over to them a large number of items that we wanted returned to the United States, including nearly everything we had purchased at the indigenous markets in Otavalo and Saquisili. Everything ready, we waited until it was the hour to leave. Mary and I accompanied them to a taxi and given the fact that Mary was in tears and that there was not going to be enough room for everyone given the amount of luggage they had, we decided to say our good-byes there and then. Having negotiated a price with the driver, we kissed and hugged and thanked one another over again. As they drove off, I put my arm around Mary’s shoulders and walked with her back up to the casa.

It had been a wonderful trip and I was deeply thankful that they had come. Still, it did not seem long enough and Mary and I both hope that they will come to visit us again, hopefully in La Paz in the next few months.

Many of my photo albums were updated with photos of my parents. Of special interest are the new photos of our time in Baños. To see a slide show of pictures from Baños, go to my Picasa Web Album.