• South America
• West Africa
• R.T.W.
• Bike
• Central America
• Home

Ecuador

After a month or so of desert and desert like landscape, Ecuador was a welcome change. We sat gawping at palm trees and grass, as if we'd never seen such things before. The change from Peru's dry dusty desert to this lush tropical landscape happened suddenly. Within 5 miles we had gone from one to the other. The reason for the sudden change in vegetation is due, apparently, to the humbolt current, that sweeps cold seawater north up the Pacific coast of South America, this is met, at about the Peru/Ecuador border by a warm south going current.

Our first camp in Ecuador was semi-jungle, next to a farmer's house. The farmer and family were happy for us to be there, and enjoyed practising their English on us. We were woken early (5am) the next morning by their cockerel crowing!! I did offer to buy the bird from the farmer - so I could ring its neck - but the offer was declined.

The next part of our journey, from Bucay, was by train. We were given the option of what class ticket we wanted. First class gets you a comfortable seat with glass in the windows. Second class gets you indoors standing room with no glass in the openings (rather like travelling as an American hobo). Third class (the way we all travelled) got you space on the roof.

The main street in Bucay is normally full of people and market stalls (no traffic, apart from the occasional truck), but when the train comes through, all of the stalls have to get out of the way - the railway track runs down the middle of the street.

The train ride started without a hitch and we were soon out of town and into the countryside. The occasional tunnel, hewn out of the rock and without any sort of lining, were taken crouching as low as we westerners could. The local young lads, instead, played a sort of chicken and would stand up through all but the very lowest tunnel.

After 45 minutes the train slowed and stopped. We weren't in a station, in fact there were no buildings anywhere in sight. We were then moved forwards onto what looked like a passing loop (the line was single track). The locomotive then unhitched from our carriages and moved off up the line without us, disappearing from view around a bend.

Well, as none of the locals seemed to be worried we settled down for a wait, and half an hour later our loco returned. Behind it were hitched half a dozen other carriages. These were pulled up next to ours, the loco unhooked again, and reconnected to the rear of our carriages. All of this was accomplished in no time at all, even though one of the coaches derailed and had to be put back on the tracks. We were then pushed up the track and around the bend, where there was a bridge. This bridge, unlike those we had already crossed, did not have its upper reinforcing beams, so it couldn't take the weight of the locomotive. On the other side of the bridge stood waiting a second loco. Our carriages were shunted over the bridge, where the second loco was hooked onto the front and our original loco disconnected from the rear. We then carried on our journey, pulled by the "new" loco. Our original loco went back along the track and took the other carriages the rest of their way to Bucay, our starting point.

The track started to climb up into the Andes. The countryside changed from lush tropical to scrubby arid land. We then came to the steepest gradients and the track zig-zagged back and forth up the face of a small mountain. At the end of each zig, the train would stop, points would be switched, and then the train would reverse up the next piece of track. As the sun began to set we arrived at the terminus of Alausi.

The next day saw us in Baños, so called because of the hot springs that are used to this day as baths (baños is the Spanish word for bath). Here we stayed for a relaxing few days. Each morning started with a tasty, healthy, breakfast of fresh fruit, granola, and yogurt, at a local cafe. The hot springs were right next to an ice cold waterfall, so you could soak in the hot waters for a while and then plunge yourself under the freezing downpour. Baños is also the site of the church and museum of the Virgin of the Waters. Here devout people had made offerings (displayed in the museum) in thanks for being spared after being in a serious accidents. These offerings ranged from simple paintings, to collections of coins, and even stuffed animals (I must admit to finding it hard not to smirk at the rather lumpy stuffed snake). The only thought that came to my mind, as I wandered around the museum, was why were these people saying thanks for not being killed in an accident, rather than asking why they had been in the accident in the first place.

After Baños we headed to Largo Agro, an oil town in the middle of the jungle near to the Ecuador/Brazil border. Because of the political problems between these two countries, we had to have our passports stamped by the police to get into this part of Ecuador. Unfortunately Keith, an Australian fellow traveller, had left his locked in the rear lugage locker and rather than have to empty that out in the middle of the street, we hid Keith from the police. As the rest of us went between the truck and the police check point, we managed to confuse the police, so they never did realise that Keith had not had his passport checked and stamped.

The roads in this backwoods area were made up of crushed dusty white stones, which were then covered with crude oil (to keep the dust down). At one point we were driving along a particularly innocuous piece of road, there were people sitting on the truck's roof (the truck had 4 seats built into the cab's roof at the front and another 4 at the rear of the main body. These rear 4 could be used whenever any of us got bored with sitting inside, and that day a total of 8 people were up there) when the back end stepped out sideways. The truck, doing about 30 mph, started to skid. It turned 90 ° to the direction of travel. We were now skiding down the road sideways, rocking over to the limits of the truck's suspension travel (easily 8 feet). Meanwhile, 400 metres up the road a local taxi, coming in the opposite direction, stopped to watch these mad gringos perform and make sure that they didn't get wrapped up in our accident. The nose of our truck struck the soft earth of the roadside embankment and continued to spin around. 20 mph and going backwards. We continued to spin around. 15 mph and going sideways (the other side) leaning heavily in the direction of our slide. All I could think of at this moment (I was inside the truck) was that if we went all of the way over, how on the earth were we going to get the truck upright again out here in the middle of nowhere. That, and I didn't want to get smeared between the truck side and the road, if we went over.

The truck stopped. We were sidewise onto the road. In the roofseats everyone was okay, but bruised. We all got off the truck to have a look at what had happened. Apart from large clods of mud on the road, there was no sign of what had just happened. We all got back on and, within seconds, were back on our way, waving at the taxi driver as we passed.

Largo Agro is not the sort of place you want to visit. It's very much a frontier oil town, complete with bars, brothels and expensive eateries. In the middle of a tropical downpour we arrived at our hotel, so I got a much appreciated wash while unloading the back locker. The power was out (a common occurrence during this trip) so we had to settle-in in the dark. We were all warned, on arrival, about which streets not to go down and what areas to avoid after dark. It was that sort of place.

It being American thanks-giving, a group of us decided to celebrate with a decent meal. We headed off to the best restaraunt in town, which was fancy by our recent standards, but I would never go near such a place in the west. With the exception of Greg finding a maggot in his soup, the meal was surprisingly tasty, and a lot better than the standard "chicken and rice or chips" fayre that we had had up til now.

The next morning dawned bright and dry, and we headed off for a three day jungle trip. Leaving the truck at the hotel we headed off to the Rio Agua Rico river (a tributary of the Amazon). First we took a two hour charabanc ride (that's the best description I have of the strange brightly painted vehicle with wooden benches for seats), followed by a two hour trip up river by motorised canoe. The canoe was about 75 feet long, carved from a single tree trunk and powered by two large outboard motors.

Our home for the next few days was a a large hut, raised from the jungle floor and open on all sides. We slept under our mosquito nets on the bamboo floor. Our food was prepared for us by a local "Indian" lady, who produced truly wonderful meals.

My nights sleep were, despite the wonderful surroundings, spoilt by snoring of some of the group and damn cockerels that start crowing an hour before dawn. I did my best to ignore both, but I was always awake well before the rest of the group.

Jungle walks were organised for us, which we duly did, getting soaking wet, either by our sweat or by the tropical downpours. Well that's why they call it "rain forest". The jungle is an interesting place, but is it hot.

While trekking, we visited a native farmstead. Here it was explained to us how the farmer had cut down the trees, leaving their roots to hold the soil together, and burning the branches to add nutrients to the soil. One of the farmer's children, knowing that we gringos were about to come, had found and trapped a bird spider for us to see. It was enormous. I couldn't help feeling that it was somehow un-natural.

One evening some of the guys went water skiing behind the motorised canoe. This has got to have been one of the more bizarre sights on this trip - water skiing in the middle of the amazon rainforrest.

For our meal on the evening of the last day we had pork. As there wasn't a supermarket for many miles around, the pig had to be killed at the campsite. Fortunately, for us squeamish westerners, the local people were only to happy to kill and butcher the animal for us. First they tied it's legs together. This it did not like, so it started squealing. Then it's throat was cut. This it like even less, and its squealing got louder. It took 4 or 5 minutes to die (seemed like hours) with it's squeals getting weaker and weaker. Some of the women in the group were in tears by this time, and I must admit that I found it hard to take, what with my western "supermarket" senseabilities. But I did eat it. Tough as old boots it was. Even though we had paid for the entire pig, we only ate a small portion, this left the largest portion for the local villagers, who were very happy at this (getting paid for a pig that they then ate most of).

Soon enough our stay next to the river was over, and we retraced our steps to get back to Largo Agro and the the truck. It was now a "quick" drive to Quito, and for some, the end of the trip. As we drove along the back roads of Ecuador we could feel that something wasn't quite right with the truck. The steering felt, even to us in the back, odd. The front left suspension spring ( a donking big steel leafspring) had been cracked by the impact with the bank during our spin (on our trip in to Largo Agro). We stopped at some one horse town to get it fixed. The truck carried spare springs (bolted onto underside), so it was simply a case of taking one of these off, and then changing out the broken spring. At least it should have been that easy, but the broken spring did not want to come off the truck. Fortunately the town we were in had a garage with oxy-acetylene torch, which was used to apply heat to the recalcitrant nuts. All of this meant that we had to stay overnight (in a hostel normally used by truckers) and continue onto Quito in the morning.

Quito - half way point

I stayed in Quito , while those who wanted to went off to the Galapagos Islands, those ending their travels here left and those starting their travels arrived.

The hotel was in the new part of Quito, in one of the back streets. It was nice and clean, with the usual electric shower in the en-suite bathroom. This type of shower is used all over South America. The water comes out the wall cold and is heated in a small cylindrical unit directly over your head. The local electricians have a lot to learn about safety, as the wires were normally connected to the heating unit by twisting them together and leaving them bare. So splashing in the shower was definitely not recommended, as an electric shock was the likely outcome.

Every evening, at a round-about some 50 meters up the road from the hotel, a group of "ladies" would gather to ply the oldest profession. I put "ladies" in inverted commas as, side-on there silicon enhanced boobs and buttocks stood out, but from the front their bodies went straight down from large shoulders all the way to their large feet. I soon found that it was definitely not safe to walk past these "ladies". They would mob you, with lots of clucking and laughing and feeling you up and taking anything in your pockets. On more than one occasion I had to make a run for the hotel, followed by a gaggle of "women". Thank goodness that they all wore high heel shoes and could only totter along.

After so long on the road, eating truck food or whatever could be found locally, I took great pleasure in Quito's restaraunts. Breakfast tended to be at Suppa Pappas, who always played Eric Clapton tapes, and I also went to Pizza Hut and Burger King. It's amazing what you end up missing.

While in Quito I got my Venezuela visa at the local consulate.

The second half of this trip started with a visit to the equator, which is of course where Ecuador gets its name. A large monument has been erected on the equator (in photo) at a tourist site known as the "Middle of the Earth". This little excursion gave us all the chance to get to know the new people on the trip.

The trip proper re-started with a drive to the Andean town of Otovalo where Indian goods aplenty were on sale. As well as buying lots of mementos, I also went to my first Hard Rock Cafe. Okay, so it wasn't a real Hard Rock cafe, and all that it served were rather gritty spinach crepes, but it did have a sign saying "Hard Rock Cafe"!

Tulcan, our last stop in Ecuador is famous for one thing, the topiary cemetery. The dead in Tulcan are buried in above ground tombs, which looked, to me, like apartment blocks for the dead. Once interred the bodies remain in the tomb for as long as the family and friends continue to pay the rent. Once they stop, the body is disintered and cremated. This leads the rather spooky sight of empty coffin shelves on tombs dating back in the 1960s. The topiary itself was, in places, spectacular, and well worth the visit.

We camped that night, in the rain, on a dirt (ash) soccer pitch. This had the advantage of having a high wall all around it and lockable gates. Most of us took these rather dreary surroundings in our stride, but two middle-aged Californian women, new to the trip, were most upset, as they had thought that this trip would be like a South American version of an African game park safari they had been on. They were not very happy with most of this trip.

After a wet night we took the road north, and Columbia.