Vilcabamba
Ecuador
The bus drive from Cuenca to the town of Vilcabamba in southern Ecuador was breathtaking. Large canyons fell away from the road, exposing row upon row of mountains behind them. Around every corner was another jaw-dropping sight that would be a hiker's paradise. I almost missed half of it when the bus decided to drive off while I was still in the bathroom at our one and only stop. Luckily for me, Danny was on board and alerted the driver to my absence.
It was sunset when we finally arrived, the last of the sun's rays hitting the peaks of the tall mountains surrounding Vilcabamba. The town was tiny, consisting of only a few streets laid out in a grid-like pattern. Most people were clustered around the main square, but it still felt empty for a Friday night. Wandering around, there appeared to be at least one restaurant for every citizen in town, a handful of mini-markets and not much else. The quiet, dusty roads were lined with concrete buildings in a range of pale colours, and it had a distinct American Wild West vibe. I wouldn't have been surprised if a shoot-out commenced at any moment. It was hard not to like Vilcabamba.
Waking up the next morning was an unusual experience. It was actually hot! The sun was shining, the skies were clear and I only needed a t-shirt and shorts. A warm breeze was floating by and I even used my sunglasses. It was like a summer's day in Australia. We very much appreciated the lower altitude for this reason (and the fact that our hike was going to be a lot less strenuous).
Our first hike was up Cerro Mandango, one of the most popular treks in Vilcabamba. The mountain loomed over the town, the peak looking impossibly vertical. A well-defined but heart-pumping climb carried us up to the first lookout, where we could see the township below and a wide mountain range beyond. That was the simple part. After here, it was still easy to see the path, but it was also easy to see what would happen if we took one wrong step. The dirt trail was razor thin and dropped away to nothing. At times we were hugging the side of the mountain (which really did have vertical sides), at other times we were balancing across narrow ridgelines in the blustery wind. Only for a brief period was there a rope to help us up one of the tougher sections, otherwise the surrounding rocks and vegetation were our only handholds.
For a while I wasn't sure we would reach the summit, either due to the trail becoming too difficult or us chickening out. Eventually we did make it though, standing on top of a pinpoint while the wind swirled around us. Distant mountains were visible in every direction, making the death-defying climb worthwhile. Although our map showed we could continue over the peak to descend on a different path, we had been warned that this wasn't the best idea. Surprisingly, retracing our steps wasn't as terrifying as we imagined, possibly because we had gained some confidence on the treacherous terrain on way up. In the end I loved the hike, whether that was due to the perfect weather, the clear views or the element of danger that we successfully overcame.
From Cerro Mandango we continued on to the Izhcayluma Loop, a 9 km trail beginning roughly a kilometre down the highway. The first 15 minutes of the route was a gentle, butterfly-filled walk along an unused, unpaved road that followed a dried-up riverbed. Suddenly my map directed us straight onto this riverbed, which we followed for an eternity. During this time we found obstacles in the form of numerous barbed wire fences (that we crawled under, squeezed around or clamoured over) and free-range cows, who nicely moved out of the way for us. Danny spotted a long, striped snake at one stage, which of course made me believe that every branch I saw from then on was another snake. The surface was covered with rocks of all sizes, and not a single step was on a stable surface. It was infuriating to put in so much effort and feel like we weren’t going anywhere.
An eternity later my map thankfully indicated that we should leave the crappy rocks behind and head uphill. Here the vegetation was so thick that we were rarely certain we were even following a path. Occasionally there was a flattened section of grass to lead the way, at other times a splash of faded paint on a rock was our only clue that we were indeed going in the right direction. The thought of snakes had not left my mind while pushing through the dense forest. It appeared as though no one had used this path in years. All 4 limbs of my were scratched up and bleeding from the prolonged, torturous ordeal.
Once we finally emerged from the trees, we found ourselves walking up the spine of a grassy mountain. Now I could enjoy the hike. We could see where we were going (most of the time) and the depth of the valleys around us slowly came into view. At the top we followed a ridgeline, sloping up and down a series of bare mountains. The fierce crosswind threatened to blow us off each narrow walkway, and at times I had to cower down to prevent this from happening. Despite the risky endeavour, I absolutely loved this section. There were 360-degree views of the surrounding mountains, so large they made us feel like dwarfs in a land of giants. Every time we traversed down then up another peak, we stopped for a dozen more photos. My camera didn't do the scenery justice. As much as I loathed the initial stages, the views from the top were definitely worth it.
Coming back down was its own adventure. After leaving the ridgeline the path petered out, leaving us with only the map to guide the way. Although my phone said there should have been a path in front of us, there was no evidence of anything resembling a trail. We forged our own route across bumpy, grassy fields to a precarious decline that fell straight down to the highway below. Doubt filled our minds again about whether we would ever get out of here alive. Somehow we stumbled upon a strip of dirt twisting its way down the hillside, which miraculously carried us safely to the road. We never did find the path indicated on the map, even though we should have crossed over it multiple times.
That wasn't the end. To finish the loop, we had to cross over the highway and return to town on another trail. Our map said it should be mostly road and all downhill, so we weren't quite so apprehensive about continuing on. We commenced on a long driveway, which led us to the start of a trail section. Like earlier, our only clue for which direction to take was the slightly flattened grass in the wild, dense forest. The flattened grass soon stopped. There was nothing else around except an unruly jumble of branches, vines and thorns. We battered through this for about 10 minutes, adding to the scratches and blood we had already sustained but making almost no progress. I noticed a power line not far above us and suggested we aim for that. Another battle ensued, but when we reached the power line we discovered a wide gravel road with no obstacles in sight. Clearly we should have been on this road the whole time. From there it was an easy walk all the way back to Vilcabamba, with no more off-road adventures. Unsurprisingly, we didn't see anyone else on this trail today. Despite being one of the most technically difficult hikes we had completed, this was one of my favourite hikes in Ecuador.
The next morning, with a couple of hours spare before we caught a bus out of Vilcabamba, I decided to take a quick hike through Rumi Wilco, a nature reserve on the other side of town to Cerro Mandango. Again the weather was perfect, and I was disappointed I would soon be leaving the warmth behind. The trail started gently through a pretty forest, with handwritten signs pointing out the different plant species along the way. Of the various routes on offer inside the park, I chose to follow Ridge Trail 3, mostly based on reviews I had read online. It appeared to go the furthest up the mountain and would hopefully offer the best views.
Unlike yesterday's hike, the paths in Rumi Wilco were easy to see and helpfully signposted (this was critical, as Maps.me didn't have most of these trails). However, similar to the Izhcayluma Loop, the trail had me climbing up the spine of a mountain with a gale force wind testing my balance once again. I thought we ascended steep mountains yesterday, but they were nothing compared to Ridge Trail 3. Not only was I worried about falling to either side but I was also worried about falling backwards too. Helpfully, a series of narrow steps had been cut into the hillside, but the risk factor was still high. When I turned around to see where I had come from, there was nothing beyond the last few steps I had taken - the rest had disappeared down the near perpendicular slope.
Partway up the mountain a sign appeared, telling me I was now on Ridge Trail 2, which led back downhill. I was expecting to summit a peak at some stage, but apparently this was as far as the trail went. The views over Vilcabamba and Mandango behind it were superb, although I’m not sure the reward outweighed the risks. I followed the path down, a slightly less scary route without the extreme drop-offs on either side. Ridge Trail 2 led to Slope Trail 2, which was no easier, and this in turn led to Gully Trail 3, a lovely, smooth path that fortunately led me back to the main path (I had stupidly not taken a photo of the crude map at the entrance, so I had no idea where any of these routes were taking me). If I didn’t have a bus to catch, I would have happily spent the day exploring all the trails Rumi Wilco had to offer, but unfortunately time was against me. Vilcabamba had truly been an incredible hiking experience and I was glad we had made the effort to travel this far south in Ecuador.
