Guagua Pichincha

From Guagua Pichincha

As Eve was still busy writing for her Masters program, Mary and I were on our own for the trek from the village of Lloa, over the Pichincha massif, back to Quito via the Teleférico. We intended to overnight at the refugio and climb Guagua Pichincha (4794m/15,728 feet) along the way. We had been told that this was a difficult route and that we would need a guide. As there was a road all the way to the refugio and having twice seen the overland section from the summit of Ruco Pichincha, I was incredulous that this was indeed the case and eager to see for myself just how difficult the route finding would be.

Linguistic Note: Guagua, pronounced “WA-wa,” is a Quechua word for “boy” or “child” and it is in common use in Quito, replacing “niño.” And though you may have learned that words in Spanish that end in the letter “A” are (with a few exceptions) feminine, this rule does not apply to Quechua words, which abound in Ecuadorian Spanish.

Packing our bags the day before, we left early on Tuesday morning, under overcast skies. We walked down to the taxi stand and negotiated a ride to the road to Lloa, in the south of Quito. From there, we rode in the back of a pickup (officially a busita), stopping along the road to take on additional passengers, out to the village, nestled in a lush, green valley west of Quito on the southern flank of the Pichincha massif. We were dropped off near the main square, which we toured, popping into the church, and buying some water at a tienda. Everyone we met was friendly and helpful, answering our call for directions up the mountain as we walked through town.

We walked out of the village and up a cobble stone road towards the mountain, shrouded in a thick blanket of fog. Lining the way was a rainbow of wildflowers, and the road was flanked with fields planted with cabbage and beans or filled with grazing cattle, sheep and horses. We met large groups of camponistas harvesting together, whom we would likewise ask for directions. Despite the fact that there was a road to the refugio, none of the many roads outside of town were signed or mapped, so finding our way through this maze to our intended route was not easy. To this, the directions we were getting from most people we asked coupled a hand gesturing towards the mountain with the simple pronouncement “mas arriba,” which basically means “further up.” We kept walking, snapping pictures along the way, until finally we stopped to speak with an old man working in a field filled with yellow and orange butterflies. He explained that there were many routes through the fields and that they all basically converged on the road to the refugio. This explained the vagueness of directions earlier received. He likewise discouraged us from continuing on our chosen course, instead counseling us to turn around for the route directa. This I foolishly took to mean the normal route.

The direct route led us straight up the mountain on a road through fields filled with busy hands harvesting and past the small cinder block and corrugated steel homes of the field workers. Things were looking up. However the road eventually petered out, transforming into a steep and muddy track running along a fence line through pastures of grazing cattle. At one point, we came upon a family working in a field. The small children sent out the alarm, repeatedly screaming “Mami, Gringos!” as we hiked pasted, alerting everyone to our presence.

We continued up the direct route until finally it did indeed take us to the road to the refugio. As Mary was already struggling with the altitude, we were relieved to be walking once again on solid ground. By this point, we had walked into the clouds that we had seen from below. The air was wet and cool: perfect for hiking. At one point, we came upon a group of young bulls. We whistled them out of our way as we cautiously walked by. As we climbed higher, we began to recognize the flowers of the páramo. This alone told us we were getting near 4000 meters (13,000 feet) above sea level. Mary continued to struggle with the climb, so we decided to do some load shifting to lighten what she had to carry. This helped, and after a short while we were well above tree line and back in the páramo, which I have come to love, as it reminds me so much of Alaskan alpine tundra.

By the end of the afternoon, we had made it to the refugio. We had passed the caretaker on the way up and he had told us how to get in and that there was water. He did not ask us to pay the user fee though, which I assume is because the outhouse and stove kitchen gas were locked up. This was not a problem for us though, as we had brought our own stove with gas. The building itself was spacious and clean compared to the refuigo at Los Ilinizas. However, here a strong smell of gasoline permeated everything. I assume this was from some sort of treatment that had been applied to the wood floors, but it honestly smelled more like open gas cans were being stored somewhere in the building. We opened the windows to no avail. Also, the water (rain water collected off the roof) had a strong taste of moss. (Mary observed that one of the collecting pipes may have had moss growing in it.) For anyone who has not tasted this, make some moss tea. You will find as we did that the unpleasantness of the flavor is only matched by how difficult it is to cover up. As such dinner consisted of moss-flavored chicken soup with rice. Mary didn’t have much appetite, due no doubt to the altitude (4500m/14,800 feet) but I was hungry and so quite disappointed with how our food turned out.

Despite the smell, we both slept well and in the morning, I made some moss-flavored tea. I was still hoping that double-strength Gatorade would be able to cover the flavor of the water. Sadly, this was not the case. Resigned to drinking moss water, we packed our bags for the hike back to Quito across Pichincha. Leaving our bags in the refugio, we hiked up the crater rim in thick fog. After visiting a shrine to the Virgen of Pichincha, we walked up the ridge to a marker. As I waited for Mary, I was able to briefly see through the fog a point farther along the ridge that appeared higher than the point with the marker. When Mary arrived, we decided to hike to the next point I had seen. When made it to the bottom of a steep section of rock, that required some scrambling to scale. This done, we took some photos of this, the true (unmarked) summit, before heading back down to the refugio. Sadly, the crater had been completely filled with clouds the entire time we spent on the rim. We passed some hikers on the way back down and told them as much.

Back at the refugio we collected our bags and set out on our chosen path. Passing some horses, we hiked off trail to the prominent ridge northeast of the refugio, leading to Padre Encantanto, another summit on the Pichincha massif. On the ridge, we found an obvious trail. It seemed that the difficulty of the route finding had indeed been exaggerated. This, coupled with Mary’s improvement over the day before, lifted our spirits. We hiked east in and out of the fog, climbing to the base of Padre Encantanto. The surrounding country was rugged and beautiful with many potential campsites, small creeks and ponds. From here we traversed north, over to a low pass between Ruco Pichincha and Padre Encantanto, traversing our way to the base of Ruco, getting stuck only once in some rocky cliffs. From here we turned east again and began climbing to the saddle just below the summit of Ruco. The trail dissolved into the steep silty mud of the mountain. We climbed in thick fog to the base of a cliff from where we could hear the voices of climbers on Ruco echoing strangely in the mist. It was a short traverse left up and over the saddle. The fog had turned to misting rain and we were glad to be back on familiar terrain. We quickly headed down the mountain in intermittent rain and heavy fog. (Mary and I estimated the maximum visibility, meaning I could make out Mary’s silhouette, to be no more than twenty yards.) Finally we made it back to the Teleférico for the short ride back to Quito and the completion of the Pichincha traverse.

To see a slide show of photos of our climb up Guagua Pichincha and across the Pichincha massif, check out my Picasa Web Album.