Quilotoa Trek
Ecuador
It took 7 and a half hours of bus rides to reach the small town of Sigchos, the starting point of the Quilotoa trek. The final hour of the bus trip was entirely within the clouds, making us wonder how much we were going to see on the most popular multi-day hike in the country. Occasionally we glimpsed a river coursing along the bottom of a green valley far below us, with cows grazing on the slopes. I'm sure the scenery would have been fantastic if we could have seen any of it.
Sigchos was in the midst of a celebration when we arrived. The handful of streets in town were blocked to traffic and filled with a procession of dancers in traditional costumes, while the townsfolk watched on with keen interest. It seemed that every person in Sigchos, and possibly 20 nearby villages, were here enjoying the festivities. Within 10 seconds Danny had been dragged into the parade, the locals dancing around him and giving him shots of the local spirit, aguardiente. This turned out to be a running theme. For the next half hour, we were inundated with tastings of aguardiente and local fruit wines, some good, some not so good. There was even a truck driving around freely dispensing alcohol out the back. Speaking to a local man, we discovered that this was part of an Incan festival to pay respect to the land and sea, and that it would occur over 3 weekends. The Incans really liked getting drunk apparently.
The Quilotoa trek is traditionally undertaken in 3 days, but we decided to combine the first 2 days into one. The distances weren't too long and the elevation gain/loss wasn't horrific. We set off early from Sigchos, before nearly anyone else in town was up (unsurprising, after yesterday's efforts). Almost straight away we were presented with outstanding views, surrounded by tall mountains covered in a patchwork of green farmland. The path carried us downhill to a river, which we followed for a while as we gazed out at the ever-changing scenery. For a long time all we could hear was the rushing water and the calls of cows, pigs, chickens, dogs and an assortment of other farm animals.
Inevitably the route turned uphill, forcing us along a track consisting of wet, muddy grass laden with cow poo. The ascent was demanding, but at the top we were rewarded with an easy walk all the way to the 2-street town of Isinlivi, 10 km from Sigchos. Here we found one hostel open, where we stopped for the best and most Western-style breakfast we had come across in South America. A huge spread was laid before us, which we tried our hardest to make a dent in but failed. The hostel was absolute luxury, with a large dining room overlooking the mountains, a yoga/weights room, a games room, a bar and the cheapest happy hour deals we had seen in Ecuador. If only we could have stayed here for a few days...
Not long after leaving paradise/Isinlivi, we arrived at an intersection. So far, the route had been fairly well marked, with signs and painted arrows on rocks guiding the way. Here there were faded arrows pointing in both directions. Our map said both paths led to the same destination, but they took wildly different routes. In the end we chose what Danny called the 'fun way': off road.
It was stunning. Around ever corner was another amazing outlook we had to take a photo of, despite the bleakness of the grey skies. We trekked beside rivers and down mud-filled paths, constantly surrounded by eucalyptus trees that gave off a homely, Australian aroma. If only the clouds would part to reveal the blue skies that lay behind it. Finally we reached the point where the path we split from earlier met ours. The signs for the hikers going the opposite direction made it look like the route we took was the wrong one, even though we did see regular markers on our trail. We had no idea which was the correct way, but we loved the path we hiked.
After leaving the river we were led up a dry, dusty trail, the steepness so intense I was sure we would slide all the way down. At the top was a rickety lookout tower, costing us all of $1 to climb. The view from the top was easily the most incredible we had witnessed all day, and one of the best of our trip so far, extending all the way down the valley. It was easily worth more than $1.
Disappointingly, our last 2 km were on a main road, consisting of sporadic traffic and no views. As it is with our luck, the best weather of the day was while we were on this road. Our accommodation, in the one-street town of Chugchilan, was a vegetarian hostel, set on a slope that had an outlook of the mountains across the valley. They offered a jacuzzi and sauna (neither of which we utilised), free and unlimited banana bread and oatmeal cookies (which we devoured), as well as a vegan dinner and breakfast that was included in the room rate. As backpackers who usually stay in the cheapest places we could find, this was like winning the lottery. While we sat on a deck outside, stuffing ourselves with banana bread, we saw a broad cloud of rain drifting across the mountains. It moved on quickly, leaving superb clear skies. Why couldn't we have weather like this while we were hiking??
Just to make this vegetarian hostel even better, they lit a fire in our room at night in the closed fireplace, so our room was toasty warm when we went to bed. I wish all of our travelling was this luxurious.
The first few kilometres after leaving Chugchilan were gently downhill, which eased us in nicely for day 2. After this, it was all uphill, with some sections so steep I don't think I could have walked them going in the opposite direction (it would have been a bum slide all the way down). We alternated between dirt road and trail, passing through a couple of villages that would have contained no more than a dozen buildings. Dogs and farm animals watched us trudge by, while bright purple lupins lined the path. By far the most beautiful section of the morning was walking along the clifftop of a deep canyon, the valley stretching out behind us for an eternity. Long drop waterfalls crashed in the distance, feeding a thin river that wound its way along the canyon floor. The Quilotoa volcano was always ahead of us, its summit so high it appeared impossible to reach.
It finally arrived, 10.5 km after starting out. To say it was blowing a gale would be an understatement. Doing our best not to get knocked off our feet, we snapped a few photos of a dull grey crater lake with dull grey skies above, then hid behind a shack serving drinks so we could layer up. We were ecstatic to make it to this point, but we weren't done yet. The town of Quilotoa, and the bus out of here, was around the other side of the crater. A path ran around the entire rim, and the quickest route (3 km) was to go anticlockwise. A map indicated there were 2 options: a higher or a lower path. We chose the lower path, mainly to get out of the wind but also to be closer to the lake. Although we were successful on both accounts, it wasn't the best option. The narrowest of tracks followed the lake partway up the side of the crater. It was so overgrown in places we couldn't see where we were placing our feet, and one wrong step meant we were hurtling downwards. At times we didn't even know which direction the trail was meant to be going. About halfway around we ran into 2 other hikers and a local man, who told us we had taken the animal route (a sign at the start stating this would have been helpful). He offered to guide us up to the correct path on top of the rim, which wasn’t absolutely necessary but we were grateful all the same. Roughly 20 minutes later we emerged on a much clearer trail, at which point our unofficial guide turned around and demanded money from all of us for his service. We each hand over a few dollars to say thanks, but he insisted on more, clearly stating an extortionate fee in Spanish. It soon dawned on us that he must sit up here every day, waiting for unsuspecting tourists to take the wrong trail so he could jump in and 'help' them. We pretended not to understand his excessive request and dashed off, out of sight.
The town of Quilotoa was extremely touristy, with not a lot to hold our attention. All we could do was venture between the various miradors as the sun tried to shine through. The sky brightened up enough for the water to appear a dark green blue, yet it still looked nothing like the advertising photos. I wandered down the steep, dusty path towards the edge of the lake, but the views weren't any better. Coming back up was a lung-busting effort, not surprising given the altitude of the rim was about 3,900 m. After a quick reflection of our monumental experience, we jumped on a bus and travelled back to civilisation.
A few days later we had a spare day while waiting for our hike up Cotopaxi. I took this opportunity to return to Volcan Quilotoa on a slightly clearer day than our first outing. This time I walked around the opposite side of the crater rim to the peak, Monte Juyende, at 3,930 m. It was nice to see a little blue sky in the background, but it still wasn’t as dazzling as I expected it would be on a bright, sunny day.
