Ecuador (Part 1)

“Wow no way, it’s called Ecuador and it’s on the Equator? Seriously, what are the odds?”

– Some Idiot, Sometime, Presumably

The Ecuadorian border was the easiest crossing I think I have ever had, bags were not even checked, let alone sniffed by dogs. This disappointed me greatly, as I had turned down a highly lucrative offer of smuggling dozens of human kidneys across the border. I stood to earn hundreds of thousands, but now it was a bygone opportunity. As famous businessman Warren Buffet frequently said “Always take the kidneys, those assets never depreciate” (citation needed). Should have listened but live and learn I guess. I drowned my sorrows with some fresh empanadas and a glass of morocho. Putting that behind me I was ready to explore Cuenca.

Cuenca

Have you ever had the feeling that something just isn’t right? That’s how I felt entering Cuenca. I felt like Tom Cruise wandering the streets of NYC, completely devoid of all activity.

The problem we had in common was not that there weren’t any people for us to espouse the virtues of Scientology to, but rather an eerie silence. It finally hit me; no one is honking here! The tranquility hit me hard and that was all it took for me to fall in love with Cuenca.

If you like churches, I have great news for you: Cuenca has a few. Seeing as it was sunday, I wandered into the main one for my first ever Catholic mass. Here there were plenty of people to tell about scientology, but I managed to refrain and just enjoy the interior beauty and the nice acoustics.

Cuenca is a beautiful place to get lost in. So I tried twice, once on foot and once by bike. Over all, the bike option proved more successful. I was using a rickety thing with faulty breaks, poor shifting and a slipping chain. I considered going up the hills to be pure joy, and returning down them to be something close to heavenly. It felt great to sweat a little, as it had been a while.

Cuenca is tucked into a beautiful green valley. In all directions hills rise above it, for a long ways.

Cuenca is also culturally rich, with more museums than I can count (but I’m notoriously terrible at counting). So much to do but I decided to move on and get some more nature. I turned to my right, somehow knowing that thousands of kilometers away Andy was turning to his left. I screamed “No Museums! Only Nature!” Somehow I had all the confidence that Andy had said the same thing simultaneously (although my brother informs me that “simultaneous events” is not really a thing: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Relativity_of_simultaneity But what does he know?) To me, after I had seen this (see below), I had seen all I needed culture-wise.

Cajas National Park

As you head west from Cuenca you are required to climb up and over some pesky mountains. As you ascend, the trees and greenery are replaced in favour of grasses, shrubs, cacti and bogs. In this region lies Cajas National Park.

I got to the park and felt as though I was the only one there. This caused my mind to wander back to the days of early explorers; ships getting frozen into the northwest passage, hardy individuals battling frostbite at high altitudes, those who were lost for weeks in the deserts and crews with limited rations fighting a losing battle with scurvy. Waves of inadequacy cascaded over me. I closed my eyes, turned my head skyward and thought: “Modern convenience, you fickle beast you. You have turned me soft!” In an attempt to prove myself to my forebears I stepped off the road, onto the trail and directly into boggy mud.

I pulled my shoe from the bog as Arthur had once done with a sword from a stone. Just as he had been changed in that moment, I too was a new creature. I had successfully increased my hardship, and continued on my trek. Certainly I would now be mentioned in the same breath as Henry Hudson, Marco Polo and Lewis/Clark. I set off, ready to map out the area and find passage from Cuenca to Guayaquil.

The paths in this park are extremely difficult to follow and you lose them often (great for feeling like an explorer). I was in the middle of one of my off path adventures when I stumbled across two new Belgian friends (not good for feeling like an explorer). I would like to say that I acted extremely rude and frightened them off so that I could maintain my solitude and hardship, but I didn’t. I took the cowards way out and befriended them, hiking the rest of the day together.

At the end of the day, all that was required was to simply hitch hike back to Cuenca. I had been led to believe this would be easy, but to my complete surprise cars weren’t pulling over and starting fisticuffs for the right to have me on board.

Our trio did finally get picked up, but for me the damage had been done. These hill folk don’t love and faun over an absolute stranger? I just could not abide. Tomorrow I will go to the beach and see if I am idolized there as a world famous explorer ought to be. Next stop Montanita.

Montañita

Heading from Cuenca to Guayaquil you pass up and over Cajas. From Cajas to Guayaquil it is essentially all downwards. You pass through at least four distinct biomes as you descend: grasslands, alpine, rainforest and desert. The Andes end abruptly and are replaced by an expansive plain out to the coast. These plains were covered in a great and diverse forest, but that has been removed and crops of bananas and palm oil have taken over.

This is of course an ecological tragedy, but to me it is something else also. In my opinion complaining about palm oil crops is another item in a long list of things that developed countries finger point over. Hypocritically.

I’m pretty uneducated on this, but at the surface level it seems that any monoculture represents an ecological wrongdoing. Maybe one is worse. I don’t know, but if we can use our land other places can to.

Anyways, after arriving in Guayaquil I took a brief bus out to the beach of montanita, a place where the soft, white, powdery sand isn’t the only white, powdery substance in abundance. Friends I had made in Ica were going to be here for surfing, all I had to do was find them. I expected this to be hard, but I wandered one street and immediately found the tied back blonde hair of a person I recognized. He was not expecting me, and that made the reunion all the sweeter.

I got reunited with my American, Russian and Colombian friends from the days of bar tending. In addition to this I got to meet two real cool Swiss guys:

We made a pretty stellar crew. The days all blurred together: Get up for breakfast and a banana-oreo shake, take a siesta, meet up for swimming and surfing, hit up supper and head out to enjoy the beach fiestas until the sun rises. Montanita was a vacation from my vacation. The only work I had to do was capture the area with the worlds best camera:

On top of it all, every night we were treated by this:

Yessiree things were going smoothly. That is until my german climbing friend from Huaraz texted. “Hey man, quit being lazy and come to Riobamba, I’m keen on Chimborazo.” I was a little offended. “Lazy? What could he mean by that?” I thought to myself from the beach hammock I had been swaying in for hours. I was going to get to the bottom of that comment, but first I needed a nap. Once I woke up I had clarity, and that clarity spelled the end for Montanita. I left for Riobamba the next morning.

But thats a story for Part 2.

Conclusions

Early explorers weren’t that special. Cuenca is a tranquil town, go there after you’ve listened to honks passively for three months. Educate yourself before sharing opinions on complicated and divisive topics (oops). There are things out there that will help you fiesta until the sun rises day after day, take or don’t, I’m not the boss of anyone. Ecuador is certainly more expensive than Peru, but try to keep the context on Canadian (or wherever you are from. This blogs official stance is to love foreign readers!) prices. If given the opportunity to smuggle organs, go for it!

Reid Patterson

Currently 5200m above sea level, loving the high.