Left The Secret Garden around 10am for the journey to Chugchilan and The Black Sheep Inn for my Quilatoa visit.
Two things made the trip’s start more pleasant. The mixto (pickup truck taxi) driver for the trip to Latacunga, where I’d get my bus, was Johana, who picked me up three days earlier in Machachi. Also just before leaving, a Dutch couple asked if they could share the ride, which cut the cost for me by two-thirds. They were both teachers and interesting people, which made the two-hour drive more pleasant.
I could have just taken a bus for both legs of the trip, but I would have had to pay a mixto to get back to Machachi anyway. And then taken a bus to Latacunga from there. So as long as I’m in the mixto anyway, might as well get another chunk of trip done, and have only one bus ride.
Arrived in Latacunga around noon, and just missed the noon bus. They run hourly, so not a big deal. The bus to Chugchilan from there is a very local bus, servicing small local communities. I was the only passenger going any distance. There were never more than three or four other passengers, and people got on and off frequently, often with large bags of things bought or to sell stored in the hold under the passenger compartment.
Beautiful trip though, with frequently changing scenery that was hard to photograph from the moving bus. Picturesque small towns, winding roads, and, nearing Quilatoa, a tangled landscape of small shallow canyons. As my inn was past Quilatoa, I got a glimpse of the volcano from the outside, but not of the crater lake. The bus dropped me right at the entrance to the inn, which was not far up a steep, twisting hill.
The Black Sheep Inn is an award-winning ecolodge. And when I say ecolodge, I don’t mean that they put out a sign asking you to reuse towels to save water, and call it good. All the food is vegetarian. Absolutely everything is recycled or reused. There’s a basket where you put your teabag sleeve, and they use them for scratch paper. Then, after that, they can be firestarters. Or, along with other paper products (everything is recycled paper), they can be shredded and used in the composting toilets.
After the tolerable shared bathroom experience of the previous few days, I had WhatsApped and asked for a private room with private bath, to replace my reserved private room with shared bathroom. They had the space and happily accommodated. So in my room’s bathroom is a urinal with a bucket of water. And after peeing, you pour a cup of water down to “flush”. The toilet is something like a pit toilet, except it is filled with wood shavings and shredded paper. And beside the toilet seat is a box of shredded paper, and a scoop. After you poop, you sprinkle the shredded paper over your leavings. And, unlike my previous camping pit toilet experiences, there is surprisingly little odor. Maybe an occasional whiff of musty acid, but nothing unpleasant.
It’s a beautiful bathroom, and if you weren’t aware it was a composting toilet, you’d never know otherwise. And the room itself is lovely as well, in a rustic lodge way, with a great view of the valley below. There’s a loft bedroom, which I don’t use, and a wood burning stove, which I also don’t use. I prefer sleeping in a cold room under piles of blankets. And I’m sure the room would be a sauna with that stove going.
Three vegetarian meals a day are included, as is unlimited coffee and tea. Breakfast is fruit, yogurt, and muesli, with eggs your way and a roll; at breakfast you get a packed lunch with a cheese sandwich, popcorn, raw veggies, fruit, and something sweet; and dinner is soup, main course and dessert. The vegetarian dinners have been spectacular — some of the best vegetarian food I’ve ever had. Dinner after my late afternoon arrival was stuffed squash; second night (after returning from my Quilatoa hike — read on) was a huge quiche slice made from mostly roasted vegetables and a crust, with just enough egg and cheese to hold it together. And I had my daily Pilsener beer. All so good. I looked forward to every dinner.
As in most hostels, there was a changing cast of characters. First night was busy. Three older Belgian gentlemen who were summiting various peaks. They had successfully done Cotopaxi, were on their way to Chimborazo, and stopped off to see Quilatoa. There was a Polish woman and her French husband, and their child. So lots of French being spoken, some of which I could understand but unable anymore to speak. There was a Canadian photography professor named Tom who coincidentally had just returned from Kapawi Ecolodge in the Amazon, where I am going in September. He told me of his experiences there, and let’s say only that they were authentic, and reinforced my choice of going there versus the many other Amazonian options. Great info, Tom. Dinner conversation that first night was a multilingual mix of French and Spanish, with people defaulting as usual to English when needed. In these trips, I have encountered very few people who spoke only one language; you can probably guess which language it was, and where they were from.
I’ve fallen into the pattern of doing my big experience on the first full day, giving myself the remainder of my stay for recovery or other options. Did that for Chimborazo and Cotopaxi, and repeated it for Quilatoa.
And I’m glad I did.
Quilatoa is a town and it’s also the name of the inactive volcano with a large central crater that is a lake. There were several options for hikes. I could do a partial hike of the rim, about an hour, and then veer off and hike back to the inn. Other hiking options took you to various villages, or to the local cheese factory, founded and originally funded by the Swiss. There were horseback options. I decided to do the hike around the rim of the crater — typically four to six hours.
I did little research about the hike. There wasn’t much info out there. Most of what I could find was about the Quilatoa Loop, which is a multi-day hike that includes the town of Quilatoa but also many other area towns. So, armed with little good information, my packed lunch, and some water, I waved down a bus, went to Quilatoa, and set out.
Upon reflection, I was somewhat dumb about this. Up until now, I had done my difficult hikes up volcanoes in a group, with a guide. This time I was hiking alone around a volcano, had no cellphone connection as my Ecuadorian carrier doesn’t work here, and had no idea of the terrain. On the positive side, I’m a fairly experienced hiker, I’m in good shape, and I’m totally acclimated to the altitude (just under 13,000 feet / 4000 meters).
Looking out onto the crater, there was a visible circle of peaks surrounding the lake, and the tallest one about a third of the way around looked steep on one side and flatter on the other. The rest seemed within a relatively consistent range of up and down. So I chose to hike the circle counterclockwise, which meant that I would be hiking up the steep side of the tallest peak. I personally prefer hiking up more than down, as down is harder on my legs and knees. And my somewhat early start (10am) gave me plenty of time to get around.
Off I went. The start of the path was narrow and difficult at times, but it was mostly solid ground. I went through a small forest with a trail down to a nearby community, past a nicely constructed overlook with glass walls, and then started seriously going up. And the terrain changed to a combination of scrambling over sometimes loose rocks, and walking in steep, narrow sandy washes (the channels where rainfall runs down from the peaks).
It was here that I realized I had inadvertently come at a good time — dry season. The chances of rain were minimal. For me, it would have been a perhaps insurmountable challenge to go either up or down these washes with rain or mud. As it was, the sand and loose gravel still made things slippery, so I took my time and went very slowly, with breaks when needed.
Near the top of the highest peak, there was a small plateau with a closed store named “Juyende”, which means “walk” in Kichwa. There were some benches with a nice view of the lake and the crater. And there was no one there — I only encountered four hikers during the entire five hours. Perfect spot. Scattered some ashes of Kirk, downwind, while I sang the end of “Origin of Love”.
After that, more rock scrambling and trudging through washes to the top of the highest peak. At this point, as I started to go across a mostly flat part to the next peak, I realized what was going to be the hardest part of the hike. Flat up here was not necessarily good. Flat meant that you were walking the ridge. Walking the ridge meant you were walking on a one foot wide path, with sheer drops on both sides. To complicate matters, these were the areas with the most wind. In these areas, I mostly did a very slow penguin walk, keeping both feet on the ground as much as possible, and crouching when the wind really gusted hard. I do not particularly have a fear of heights. But these parts frightened me.
While hiking these five hours, I practiced mindfulness — I focused on my feet, and on each step, rather than on the amazing vistas. This was necessary as I had to be constantly aware of the changing terrain. For example, using a rock to hold onto, or to step on. Some rocks were loose. Some rocks looked firm but would come loose. Some rocks were firm and would not move. Some sand in the washes was firm, and some looked the same but I would slip depending on the angle of ascent or descent. So each step would be a constant evaluation of terrain, often on a one foot wide path with sheer drops on one or both sides. Focus was critical. I’d had to do this on hikes before, but for short distances within a longer hike. Never for an entire five hour hike, step by step.
For a while I alternated between the scrambling, the washes, and the ridges. Many times there were divergent paths — one directly up and over the very peak, and one slightly lower and to the right around the back of the peak. Because they were generally flatter and afforded views of the valley outside the crater, I mostly chose going to the right. A couple of times these trails dead-ended and I had to backtrack. But I liked the variety.
In this way I made it to the approximate halfway point. Where there was an open snack bar. It speaks to the dedication of the indigenous, and perhaps to the lack of opportunity, that people would hike this distance each day to sell cold drinks and coca tea to the few people who wander by. But you betcha I bought a coca tea. And had a nice chat in Spanish with the couple. My obvious question? Answer: two more hours, mas o menos (more or less). Their obvious question? I had seen three people coming their way. They had two dogs, and I had brought the small baggie of dog food I had appropriated at The Secret Garden. After asking permission, I made two puppers very happy.
About an hour later, I saw a figure coming at me. Hello, Tom! He had decided to hike a partial ridge path, clockwise from the town of Quilatoa, and veer off back to Chugchilan and the inn. I backtracked a bit to a bench and we had a rest and a nice chat.
From there, finished the hike in about another hour. As I came off the trail, there was a guy in a truck. Want a ride? I didn’t feel like waiting for the bus. I was exhausted and sore, and my right leg was starting to hurt behind the knee quite a bit. So after a slight bit of back and forth about the price, we agreed and off I went. Back at around four to The Black Sheep Inn, a shower and a nap, and the aforementioned dinner quiche. And a well earned Pilsener.
Should I have done this hike? Common sense says no. If I had known the difficulty of the multiple terrains, I probably would have opted out. Or have at the very least prepared better. But I now have, along with exhaustion and aches, a definite sense of accomplishment. My mom, who traveled a lot in her later life until she no longer could, told me repeatedly to do these things while you can, because at some point you can’t. And you can’t take money with you. Considering that, I’m glad I set out, and I’m glad I had the skills and presence of mind to make it a success. As Steve Jobs said, via the Whole Earth Catalog:
Stay hungry. Stay foolish.
Morning after, following a lengthy stretching session and a hearty breakfast, I decided to make it a recovery day. Or, perhaps, the first in a string of recovery days. Took my packed lunch back to my room, left the door open to get the breezes and noises, read some, wrote some, napped some. A perfect day followed a perfect day. And when I got to dinner after my chill day, my new friend Lorna was back from the same crater rim hike.
Lorna had arrived the previous evening and we had immediately liked each other. At that evening’s dinner, she said was going to do the same crater rim hike, the one I had just completed. At breakfast the next morning, just before she left for her hike, I tried to strike a balance between “nosy interloper” and “concerned father”. I had thought a lot about it, and I did not want to give the impression that I thought she wasn’t capable of making her own decisions. I just wanted her to be aware of risks, in a way I wasn’t. So I showed her some pictures and told her my experiences. She seemed appreciative at the time, and on her return, at dinner, thanked me again. She, unlike me, had enough sense to have a cell signal. Lorna, you’re awesome in my book.
Also had a nice conversation, during that dinner and the following day’s breakfast, with a couple who were digital nomads and hikers. They were constantly on the move but were currently spending a month…in (yay!) Cuenca. And they are just down Calle Larga from me. They go to one of my coffee places all the time. Very cool couple; they slow travel constantly. Inspirational for me, as that’s what I’d like to do someday if I can. Minus the working. I’m not sure if she was inspired by our conversation, or came to an independent decision, but Lorna says she’s coming to Cuenca after spending time on the coast. A convert! I’ll take it.
My last full day at The Black Sheep Inn was also chill. They have a yoga studio, and I used it to start every day with my half hour exercise and stretching routine. Breakfast followed, read a bit, and then played frisbee golf.
That might seem an odd choice among available activities. But Kirk and I used to play frisbee golf while at Tuckahoe State Park in Maryland, one of our favorite camping destinations. And the inn’s course here was touted as the highest in the world. A karmic combination. So off I went, nine holes on the very steep side of a mountain. At the center of the course there were several holes within a fenced-in area populated with very curious llamas. I played through, while they watched and I regretted not bringing them some carrots or banana peels to eat. I never threw the frisbee very far — it was free to play but if you lose a frisbee out of bounds it’s ten dollars to replace it. Got back with both of my frisbees and a smile on my face.
I had decided to decline the usual packed lunch in favor of walking into Chugchilan for an almuerzo (lunch) and the Sunday market. Bought a pair of sweat pants, had a bowl of sopa de pollo (chicken soup), and enjoyed the people and the ambiance.
The rest of the day was spent relaxing with a book, interrupted only by the arrival of a large loud group of Utahns, commotion constantly left in their wake. I continued reading and was polite to the woman who wandered in my room’s open door. Then at dinner I sat with them and got to know them, and my first impression was dispelled. They were charming, engaging, and fun. They had rented a bus and a driver and were traveling as a large group on a family vacation. Left them in the dining room and turned in early, to get some sleep before my long travel day to Riobamba, Irma, and Casa de Marmol, followed by another travel day back home to Cuenca.
Bottom line for The Black Sheep Inn? Much more my speed. My private room with private bath was $50 a night but that included three meals a day and a lot of extras, so I was pleased. Food was consistently outstanding, staff was friendly and helpful, and the amenities were fun. There’s a lot more in this area I could explore, and I can see myself returning.
And much like my Cotopaxi experience, I’m relaxing into solo travel, and with sharing hostel space and meals with other travelers. It bodes well for my tentative future slow travel plans.
Looking forward to Izhcayluma next month. That will be a different experience as I will be going with friends. It will be a nice comparison.
On I go.
