¡Hola familia y amigos!
After an adventurous, yet soggy, stay in Baños, we decided to move to a drier climate and hike the Quilotoa Loop.
The Quilotoa Loop is in the central highlands of Ecuador. A dry, windy climate with towns upwards of 13,000 feet! Many backpackers make this two-day trek to enjoy the picturesque landscape, visit a crater lake, and peruse the various art galleries that showcase a style of art unique to this region.
The jumping off point for the loop is a medium-sized town called Latacunga. The backdrop if this city is the massive Cotopaxi. This snow-capped volcano towers over city, and on clear days you are able to see the peak. Aside from Cotopaxi, Latacunga doesn't really offer much else for travelers. After a quick pit stop, Brandt and I woke up fresh and ready to tackle the Quilotoa Loop!
While using any sort of moving vehicle is an experience unto itself, I found the taxi ride to the main bus terminal particularly puzzling.
I literally could not understand the taxi driver. Now, my spanish is still fairly terrible, however I can usually glean any where from 20-50% of what is being said to me. On good days, when the speaker is feeling more sympathetic to lost Americans, I can catch about 80%.
With this driver I caught nothing.
The words he was using not only had a different inflection, but most were not even clearly spanish. This was our first encounter with Kichwa, an indigenous language for the native people of Ecuador.
Confusion caused by Kichwa, or the blending of spanish words with it, would prove to be a theme of our trip. I consider myself a decently intelligent person, but the only mystery I uncovered about this dialect of spanish is that the 'll' sound like a drawled 'j', instead of a 'y'. I have a sinking suspicion that this 'discovery' of mine to crack the Kichwa code isn't even that brilliant...I have decided to stick with one language that I butcher on a daily basis, and leave Kichwa for another trip.
After using taxis, buses, and a pickup truck, we arrive in Quilotoa, the heart of the Loop. Quilotoa is an artesian hub. Masks, paintings, woven scarfs, jackets of Alpaca, and other trinkets dot every corner. Of course, everything is hand-made.
After finding a deal on a hostel (this would prove mildly disastrous later in the evening) we quickly went to the town's main attraction, the crater lake.
Laguna Quilotoa is a clear blue, alkaline lake. And it is a steep hike down to get to the sandy playa below. Most hikers make the 1,000 foot descent themselves, and then take a convenient burro ride back up.
We thoroughly enjoyed the hike. Taking pictures like the other tourists, using a swing that dangles over the edge of a cliff, and hanging out on the playa. When it came time to hike up, however, there were no more burros available...
So we made the trek up the sandy trail on foot. We have no pictures of our ascent as most of our free time was spent gasping for air and giving envious glares to the people who snagged our burros.
The rest of the evening was uneventful, aside from the freezing wind that howled through the village. After dinner we swiftly retreated into our hostel, hoping for a reprieve from the weather. Unfortunately it turns out that our room was open air, and the joints that should connect the roof and the walls was not present throughout the entire structure. Our room was an icebox. Like, put on as many layers as we could on, huddle under blankets, and still chatter our teeth. Luckily for me, I had some booze on me. The addition of a whiskey coat proved my saving grace. Brandt, who is nursing a cough, did not partake.
Come the following morning, after realizing that none of the water worked (sink, shower, toilet) we came to the decision that taking the entire loop may be overrated. So, having seen Quilotoa, we are heading back to lower elevations in search of warmth and a break from the icy gales on the mountain tops.
-Rob
