A friend we made suggested a city about 6 hours from Guayaquil. Las Cajas national park is a huge refuge high in the Andes that is known for its spectacular vistas. But first we needed to get there.
It started like any other bus ride, but things started really moving once we hit the rain. We lurched to a stop and many of us wiped the sleep from our eyes to see a river of mud crossing the road from the hillside. One hundred yards up, the hill slid due to the soggy weather.
We sat. The driver was doing something or another while the temperature started to rise. He'd turned off the air in expectation of the cool mountain air, but we'd yet to reach it and outside was 85 degrees, inside was approaching 100. We cooked.
An hour or so later the road crews showed up with heavy equipment to move the sludge in order for us to pass. Mothers were fanning their babies to keep them cool. Finally, we moved and fresh air entered the windows.
We stayed at Hostal Mallki just outside the historic center of Cuenca. The owner Andres restored the place by hand with a great result. We were eger to go exploring the colonial center.
The city abounds with churches. Nearly every corner has one if not two. We had reached the town after dark so we had the real pleasure of seeing the buildings with their lighting.
Next morning we awoke early to go to Las Cajas national park. The taxi driver took us to the main bus terminal, where we conveniently boarded another taxi to go to the transfer terminal on the other side of the city. By this time we'd missed the morning buses (8am and 830) and had to wait for the next at 1040. We went for an adventure.
A block away from the Occidental bus office we found a huge open air market filling several square blocks. We wondered the food area and gawked at the food handling. Whole raw chickens skinned sweating more than the two of us. Fish weren't kept on ice, no plastics separating the food from the guests, not a single glove in use. I suddenly saw how important it was to have your food cooked fully because it has most likely picked up a few ickies that would give a tourist the trots or worse.We decided bread would be our lunch with some red grapes.
Forty minutes outside of town lie las Cajas named for their box shape when viewed from above. Hiking begins at 4000m which makes your lungs burn and your head pound. The park was carved by glaciers that have long since gone away. We were told route 1 (pink route) was a favorite and expected three hours hiking.
It must have rained through the night because the ranger laughed when she saw our waterproof shoes and suggested an alternative hike. We were unswayed by her wise guidance and set off. Fifteen minutes later we were covered in mud to the knees and had nearly lost a shoe in some quicksand. We pressed on undaunted.
The path turned into a forest which I can only describe as magical. At neary 13000ft in altitude, these trees have weathered the constant wind, but have warped in every direction as if they were scribbled by a toddler. Their paper thin smooth bark is translucent brown. The hike just got unexpectedly awesome.
We had some weather and lighting move in after passing the forest so we had to high tail back to the ranger station, slipping and sliding the whole way. We waited on the side of the road for a Cuenca bound bus to get us home.
That night was a bit blurry. Andres broke out some moonshine aguardiente called Pajaro Azul. Traditionally they make the stuff with a raw chicken which turns the booze blue hence the name "blue bird".
Pablo Chichel and Andres jammed until three thirty in the morning with some very entertaining renditions of sings you know and their own compilations. Kathy, a very kind Canadian, rob and myself did our best to keep a beat on the box drum. The next morning was tough, to say the least, but we still made it out to the museum and ruins at Pumapungo.
