Our second-last stop in Ecuador was Banos, a small town nested in a verdant valley surrounded by active volcanoes. Banos is popular with backpackers and globetrotters as Ecuador's adventure-sport capital. Not being keen on adventure sports, I was looking forward to it as a time for relaxing and hiking in the beautiful surroundings. We stayed in a campsite called Pequeno Paraiso just outside Banos, run by two expatriates and offering treats such as cookies, chocolate cake and homemade ice-cream alongside the usual booze selection.
By then we got to know quite a bit more about our travelling companions. Everybody was travelling for different reasons, but the underlying motive was a genuine love for our planet, a willingness to explore and discover. Camping allowed us to get together even more, as we were expected to cook in groups and clean after our dinner. We had some wonderful meals: home made pizza, curries, Mexican burritos and a legendary seafood barbecue amongst others. We also had an outstanding guide, Rachel. Before joining the trip I was concerned of finding myself in a group with a young, patronising guide who knew little Spanish and little about the place; this is what happened to Nick during his previous overlanding experience. Rachel was fantastic, really knowledgeable and friendly, never patronising. Little did I know then that we were going to become good friends.
In Banos amyriad of activities were on offer; from horse riding to bridge swinging, canyoning and whitewater rafting. Some of our group opted to try canyoning, essentially an activity whose main task is to descend a river, jumping off waterfalls, abseiling and floating. The $ 45 price tag and the fact that the weather was cold and miserable were enough to dissuade me. So we headed off for a spot of hiking. First we visited the Pailon del Diablo waterfall, which was impressing but dwarfed by my memory of Iguazu. I liked the fact that a small path allowed the visitor to scramble up the rocks to a platform which was at the top of the fall. Afterwards, Nick and I plus another guy named Terry decided to go for a hike in the afternoon.
Our driver Brendan had suggested us an intersting walk. It involved crossing the valley by cable car to the other side, walking to the following cable car and coming back. Around 3pm we took the first cable car. The view was thrilling yet terrifying; the cable car was powered by a truck engine, with gears and all. As it took off it sped up to breakneck spped, then ground to a halt about 5 inches from the rock face in front. The three of us took the first path we saw; a trail called Sendero de los Contrabanderos (Smugglers' Path). The trail snaked up the mountain side, allowing views which got more spectacular with every switchback. We passed men and women on donkeys carrying bails of hay. The trail went up, and up. At one point we estimated we had gone up in the vicinity of 1000 m from our departure. The trail was still going up, and we could see no cable cars going to the other side. It was getting close to 5, and we had a problem.
The problem lies in the fact that Ecuador lies on the Equator, hence its name. As such, the sun rises at 6 am and sets at 6pm all year long. Another characteristic of being in the vicinity of the Equator is that twilight is extremely short; less than half an hour after sunset and it's pitch black. Nothing like the late June twilight in London which lasts for hours, followed by a brief night only to turn into dawn again. That left us with about one hour and a half to find the cable car and cross, or face a night on the trail, as we had no lights and the vertical drop on our side was something we didn't wish to experience. There was no one to ask and we found ourselves in the walker conundrum: keep going or go back? As most reckless walkers do, we kept going.
Eventually we got to a small farmhouse perched on top of a pass and inhabited by local Quichua indios. Their knowledge of Spanish was limited, mine of Quechua was non existent. I asked for directions to the cable car and the wife offered to show us the way, or so i thought. We set off trying to keep up with her, she was almost skipping and running down the mountain. She was small and nimble, and her walk reminded us of a goat; hence we nicknamed her the 'goat spirit'. By then I was terrified. It was getting darker every minute and there was still no cable car in sight. Plus we had failed in our task to keep up with the goat spirit, although she probably had no intention of showing us the cable car but was just going off for her own business. As our paths crossed again about 10 minutes later and we saw her clutching a bucket of water, I realised the previous statement was probably right.
Shortly after 6 o'clock we saw a tiny line down across the valley in the distance. Thinking it was the cable car, we scrambled down the mountain to reach that beacon of hope before total darkness enveloped us. And we were right! We had to interrupt the operator from his dinner to drive us across, but we were safe. We walked another few kilometres to the campsite, savouring the delicious dinner of homemade falafels that awaited us and laughing about the day's adventures. It's amazing how something scary can become a beautiful memory once it's solved. And the falafels were delicious indeed.
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