Sleeping on a Landslide, Latacunga

¡POP! There she goes. I'm totally screwed. All of a sudden I've found myself tangled in a mess of material - disorientated, confused and still half asleep. Surrounded by darkness, I scramble about for my flashlight - all of a sudden it is freezing!! "Yes!" There it is...my swirling suffocation chamber suddenly bursts into light. A small relief. The howling winds are making a proper abortion of this situation. I'm camped at about 4,800 meters above sea level, far up the slopes of Cotopaxi, one of the highest active volcanoes in the world. Struggling out the now shapeless hatch of my tent, I look up and see the nearby silhouette of the glacier, glistening in the moonlight. A few hours ago, this spot was magical. Now I curse my pre-informed stupidity. I clench down upon the flashlight between my teeth, spinning in circles wildly trying to recover the front two pegs that exploded out of the rocky soil like landmines. The tent was being shredded. It seemed no stronger than tissue paper. Man, it was so damb cold!! I found the first peg, and forced the left corner down into place, flattening the guy-rope with large boulders & anything else I could reach. My hands and toes were starting to go numb, this had to work. Finally I managed the second peg, and triple checked the rest. It looked as good as it could get. I rushed back inside, heart thumping & mind racing, praying the old Vango would survive the night. This was possibly the worst spot imaginable to set up camp. What was I thinking?? Nice little sunset?? Save a few lousy dollars?? I checked the clock. How much longer did I have to endure?? Faaarrrkkk!!! It was only 9:30!!!...looks like I was in for an interesting night out...

Crazy Camping on Cotopaxi

I was ready to leave Popayán an entire day or so before I actually did. I was ready for a change of scenery. Ahead of me was another long haze of travel, but I could not wait to cross over into Ecuador, so this gave me grace. The trip to the border was a spectacle. The road winded its way through mountain tunnels, and hung out over great parched canyon lands. Reaching Ipiales earlier than planned, I decided to push on across the frontier & make for the market town of Otavalo. Customs however took it's toll unfortunately. Nothing is ever easy. Actually the Colombian side was a breeze, and I passed through so quick that I almost jumped in a cab back to where I had just came by mistake, forgetting about the second lot of practicalities. Ha, did I say practical?? I couldn't figure out why the Ecuadorian side was such a different shade of chaos. The line was flowing out the door and nearly around the corner. It took a good two hours to make it through, and another hour to go from one end of Tulcán to the other. Even heading away on the bus took an eon. I was checked out three times by military personnel who all asked me the same shit, totting their massive machine guns in my face. I'd been on the road for a good fourteen hours by the time the bus dropped me on the side of the Pan-American. There was no way I was walking. I hailed another cab, found a dank place to crash and passed out for the night.

I changed hostel pretty early the next morning. It was OK, but seemed like it was run by a gang of street kids who lingered about outside and came in only to check out the photos of my girl friends from back home. There was also no one else staying there. Still??...where were all the other bloody tourists?? I made an obligatory visit to the local market, aptly named & held in the 'The Plaza of the Ponchos.' I even went all out and actually brought myself something; a much needed giant woollen jumper. That was it though. There is only so long I can linger in a place such as that. I felt like a dick, and the locals weren't exactly what you'd call friendly. So, what else was there to do around here?? I tried to book a tour out to some of the lakes surrounding the town for the following day, but again there was not enough people signed up for it to go ahead. I ended up playing games of pool against myself back at the hostel...devouring a kilos worth of grapes & a bowl full of strawberry yogurt with granola. Exciting stuff...

Otavalo Markets

Despite the warnings in guidebooks (and from even some of the tour agencies), I bit the bullet and decided to make a trip out to one of the lakes on my own. Armed robberies & rapes are 'apparently'not uncommon in the area, but I thought hey, at least it might make for a little entertainment. I took a taxi up into the hills, making for Lake Mojanda. The driver had his young daughter in the front seat who blared the hit Brazilian pop song 'Ai se eu tu Pego' on repeat for the entire ride, not too unlike the rest of Latin America as a matter of fact. I was taken a back when we eventually reached the lake. The scenery was beautiful. Open moorlands, crowned by dark jagged peaks, not unsimilar to the landscapes of Tasmania. I paid up & quickly bounded off, exploring the lakeside, all the way around to the base of the intimidating Cerro Negro, before heading back along the road to where the trail head began for the climb up Fuya Fuya. To my surprise there was now a large bus waiting in the car park, but I couldn't see any of its occupants. As I moved higher up the slopes I soon spotted them. Two big groups could be made out in an ant like army, spread in a colourful conga line along the path. The first lot was a bunch of high school students from Massachusetts, all decked out in newly purchased woollens from the markets. It wasn't long before I passed them, apparently I'd acclimatized somewhere along the way & was still a lot fitter than I'd thought. The next bunch were all about my age, on a summer university trip from California. It was nice to have some fellow tourists to talk to again, and I probably went overboard. That's the problem. The longer I spend not chatting, the more crap that comes out when I unleash on the poor soul who ends up copping it. They didn't seem to mind. I pushed on past them, treating myself to some peanuts in celebration once I reached the top. At least I'd believed it was the top until the clouds parted slightly, revealing a gloomy massif at the conclusion of a sharp, sweeping ridge line. I knew the feeling. I couldn't not climb it. The views down to the lake were incredible, and now I could even make out another smaller one in the distance. Shuffling down the ridge, I was stopped abruptly in my tracks by the stern presence of great raptor-bird. It just stood there right in front of me, unfazed by my movement. It was a divine creature, elegant & proud. I needed Chelsea here, I was no bird expert. Just as I was raising my camera it took off, soaring away on the breeze high above the lake. I later Googled it searching for an identity. I'm pretty certain it was an illustrious condor. I sure felt pretty lucky.

Ridge along to Summit

Continuing onwards, the mighty views disappeared and I was soon engulfed in cloud. Passing around an impressive knoll & scrambling up some delicate slopes - there I found myself, loathing on the tippy-top of Fuya Fuya. It was much colder over here. Glad that all was done, it was time to get down. I followed the ridge back along to my false summit, which reunited me with the friendly group of Californians. We hung out together up there for a good half an hour before making our way slowly down to the car park. The plan had been to walk home, but of course I managed to scam a ride back to Otavalo in their bus! It was the 4th of July after all...how could they not be jolly?? Stoked. That day out gave me a new awakening. I was pumped up now. The Andes were calling.

Lake Mojanda from Fuya Fuya

The next day I waited around for the direct afternoon bus to Latacunga. I had no desire what so ever to pay Quito a visit. Not only had I heard some fairly nasty reports from some pretty hardcore travellers, there was nothing there I wished to do. Plus, I hate the big cities. I wanted to go climb snow-capped volcanoes! On arrival, I went searching for camping fuel, the only product that seemed impossible to purchase in this blastered country. Turned out the guy at the hostel had a small stash tucked away in his basement, and charged me a goldmine for a mere three-quarters of a bottle. Now I was set. I got drunk that with an Argentinian girl, devouring slabs of apple & sultana pie; that's right - gearing up for a few days of solitude.

Cotopaxi sure knows how to make an impression. After catching a bus to the park turn-off, and hitching a ride in the back of a pick-up truck with a mob of clueless French twats, I sat revelling awestruck in admiration as I caught my first glimpse of the approaching mass. The driver dropped me at Lake Limpiopungo, and I wandered around the shore, hoping for the clouds to clear and reveal the grandest of vistas. The gods were taking their time...so I pushed on, planning to make the refuge by sun down. It was a tough hike, but ever increasingly dazzling. Apart from my strikingly handsome volcano friend which loomed here above me; dotting the horizon was a vast & endless array of stylised summits, poking up from the barren grasslands, creating 'The Avenue.' I'd never seen anything else quite like it. Near perfection. The road made for easier walking than the slopes. Although these 'shortcuts' cut out half the distance, the fine loose rock was torturous, and the altitude only made it tougher. I was overjoyed when I finally reached the car park; slumping down in the dirt, cradling my pack. It was only another 30 minutes or so to the refuge hut now, and I was more than looking forward to setting up camp & cooking up a spaghetti storm for dinner. I tried my best to conceal my disappointment when I arrived, only to discover there were no spots for camping...I was sure I'd read that somewhere!! Now what Nicko?? The hut was loaded full of climbers, and it would have made a great place to hang out for the night; but on discovering that it would set me back over twenty bucks or so just to crash on the floor, I chose a 'bolder' option and took off to find an alternative.

Last push to the Refuge

Here's what brings us to the shelf camp. Oh buddy boy...how silly am I?? Not too far from the hut, down a protruding ridge is a broadish flat shelf. On either side there are drops down into iron-stained bowl like valleys. Up out front is an uninterrupted view over the plains; behind is the great wall of flowing glacial ice. I knew the dangers, but found myself mesmerised. How could I pass this up?!?

                                                                  ...

After my long night of turbulence - sunrise came and went. There was nothing I could do. I was tent bound. Could I even call it a tent anymore?? The poor thing had copped a trashing. Any minute now, I would hear the ripping of material, and see sections of the roof fly off into the distance...

Tent-Bound

...only then...silence...it had stopped...I was sceptical at first, carefully sticking my head out the door to inspect the conditions. Well I be...I'd better make the most of it, I thought. This might be the only chance I get all day to pack this thing up and get the hell outta here. I went to work - sleeping bag, jacket, stove, food, in the bag, shoes on, out the tent, front pegs, back pegs, pack up the inner...FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!!! Woooosshhh!!! There it goes!! As quick as that, two dry bags & my tents fly were picked up by an enormous gust of wind and were now racing off down the slopes of the volcano!! Nooo!!! This wasn't happening. Instinct kicked in, and I too found myself speeding off with all haste. Without a thought for self preservation, the game was on. I didn't know I could move so fast. I lost sight of one of the dry bags, but tried to keep my eyes fixed on the fly. Shit!! Then that disappeared too!! The only thing I could still see was the last of the dry bags. I snatched it up quick smart when I eventually caught up, and took a moment to catch my breath. The fly was no where to be seen. I was guessing it had flown over into one of the deep valleys or got snagged upon a sharp rock or something and shredded into a million small pieces. Man, this sucks...I trod back up the hill (which took ten times longer than it did to skid on down) accepting defeat. I found the other dry bag on the way, and shoved them both into my backpack. I couldn't believe this had happened. At the same time, I really could and I kind of felt like I deserved it.

I decided to try my luck one more time and head down in that fateful direction instead of walking back up to the hut. I didn't have high hopes. The wind was still relentless. But someone up there was looking over me that day I swear, because just as I was about to skip over to the car park - there it was!! Lying out of the direct wind, flapping gently against a large boulder. I was ecstatic. I packed it up with the rest of my gear and sat down on the rocks, taking a moment to savour the moment. All I could do was laugh. I burst out into hysterics. What a day...and yet to reach mid-morning...

The rest of that afternoon was spent plodding back down the road to the lake. I was still blown away at my dumb luck! Since you're not actually supposed to camp by the lakes shore, I decided it was best to head on up one of the little creek valleys, and find myself a quiet grassy area where I could relax & spend the night...out of the wind!! That afternoon was superb. The sun was shinning brightly, and the clouds parted from the volcano, affording some of the best views I'd had thus far. What more, there were wild horses & cattle, Oh!! and I forgot to mention the fox up on the slopes earlier. I couldn't have been more at peace. This whole trip had been an amazing experience, jam packed full of contrasting circumstances. Many a tale to be had. They're always the best anyhow.

Cotopaxi

I hitched a ride back to the highway the next morning with a car load of road workers. I managed to nod my head along to their questions in my usual nescient manner. I smelt bad...and needed a shave, but all the barbers were shut & the hot water had stopped working!! Disaster. I opted for the 'shower in a can' and coated myself in cheap deodorant.

There was one more trip I wanted to do from Latacunga before I kept moving on; a visit to the Quilotoa Crater & the surrounding highland communities. After a quick wordless Skype with Pantoon, I got moving off on the bus, seated next to some stoned Israeli. Now, this is an unmissable part of the country. I had no idea. Jagged mountain peaks reminiscent of Federation rose high above sleepy villages, tucked away in wide green valleys. Once at the crater rim, the wind picked up again, but that did little to spoil the views down to the shimmering emerald coloured lake. Magnificent. Circling the craters edge I bumped into a few groups of people; some more Israelis who refused to talk, and a German grandmother with her sprouting young granddaughter. The hike to Chugchilánpasses through some stunning countryside, and the welcoming farm folk make the journey even more enjoyable. However, nearing the end of the route, my brisk footsteps were rudely brought to a halt by an unexpected mishap. A landslide had violently came down across the mountain path only an hour or so prior, destroying the railings and effectively cutting off the two opposing sides of the valley. Some people had gone down to check if it was safe & possible, but had returned unamused and were now sitting around waiting for a pick-up to take them the rest of the way. Shoot. This wasn't good. Another big group of school kids from Massachusetts were also crowding around (Ecuador must be the place to be), and one of their teachers showed me the mess from a viewpoint. It was steep, that's for sure. I wouldn't be taking a class of kids across it. But, I didn't have that burden now did I?? That's the thing, when you're on your own; you only have yourself to worry about. There is always a way. Always. I felt like I had an idea, but wasn't really sure how I was going to pull it off. I had to check it out...

Quilotoa Crater

Everyone wished me good luck, and joked at the thought of their afternoon entertainment. I should really go into show business...that only fuelled me further. Running down the first section of the path took only a few minutes, but the loose sand told me it wasn't going to be a fun trip back up if need be. Then I came to the slip. Man...it looked a lot steeper and higher up from down here. I started having second thoughts. The railing had been ripped out of the ground completely, and now lay on its side, half buried in the sand. Small rocks still hurtled down the slope into the abyss bellow. I wasn't walking across. In hindsight it would probably have been a wiser option. Nay...turning back would have been a wiser option; but I had a crowd now, I could see them lined up along the fence where I had been looking down only 15 short minutes ago. I'd made up my mind. I was going to slide down this fresh landslide till the river & climb back up the vegetation on the other side. Booyah!! Here we go. I hoped it would work...but remember; a good story never came from saying no. Woooaaahhh!!! The sand was fast! I realised I could barely slow myself, that'll own stop! BANG!! Ohhh man...that's something I didn't account for...solid rock! My ass burnt like hot coals, there was dust everywhere. This was nuts, I was travelling wayyyy too fast now. If there was a lip I was bound to break my legs. But that wasn't going to happen now...I always pull this shit off right?? BANG!! More solid rock! I chucked on the brakes as best I could...I came to a standstill. Dust slowly began to clear around me. I'd made it...Woohooo!!! That was the biggest rush I'd had since the orange fight!! My hands were cut up pretty bad & my ass looked like a baboons, but I was down. I survived the landslide. I painstakingly climbed back up the other side and received my quaint round of applause from the lingering crowd. I layed out on the grass, soaking up the rays of sun, and smashed through a hard-earned Snickers bar. Always save the Snickers for the summit. I guess this counts more or less.

Looking back at the Landslide

I strode into Chugchilán feeling pretty flush; high & mighty. The school kids thought it was all pretty cool - one of them had even filmed it. This wasn't exactly something to be proud of (I tried my best to explain that to them)...it was sheer madness. But listen to me being all knowing & cautious. What a hypocrite!! I'd do it all over again tomorrow without the blink of an eye, just for the sheer buzz of it!! Gheesh...glad mum wasn't here. She'd kill me, Haha. It felt like beer time. I sat around in hammocks with some new found friends, and crapped on the night away.

Now, the next day was the painful one. I'd forgot about that. I couldn't sit down, and one of my fingertips had blown up like a balloon. I had breakfast, bid my farewells, and walked along the yo-yo road for four hours (chased by angry dogs the entire way) to the sizable town of Sigchos, from where I caught an afternoon bus back to Latacunga. Ahhh...what a life. I have to admit, sorry to say folks - it just keeps getting better.

Beautiful Countryside

Anyhow, it's off into the jungle for me...
I'll chat next to ya'll on the other side of the Amazon

Bon Voyage!! Much Luvin' 
Miss you all...xxxxxxxx

Nicko.