One Tough Day

The Quilotoa Loop is a string of small villages amidst peaks and valleys of stunning mountains connected by lumpy dirt roads that form a circle. The Lonely Planet (which I am becoming less and less fond of as this trip progresses) mentions this enchanting group of little villages that usually don’t have much more going on for the tourist other than a weekly indigenous market. The main spectacle is the Laguna Quilotoa, an impressive lake that sits on top of a volcano at 4200 meters. The LP doesn’t say very much about transportation between these villages or anything else for that matter.

So what makes us want to spent 5 nights on this loop? The prospect of sheer adventure and the wild unknown. The jumping off point is Latacunga, which I have just proceeded to beat into the ground in my last post. We decided to go counterclockwise to Chugchilán and use the friendly hostel as a base from which we’d explore a bit.

The morning of Wednesday, September 10 we decided to set out for the impressive Laguna Quilotoa. We hear that it’s a hefty 4-6 hour hike on windy paths through the mountainous countryside. We are so excited.

We learn, through the accounts of other travelers, that it is quite difficult to find your way around the countryside. There are multiple paths and no signs or trail markers and it is very easy to get lost. On the other hand, there are many indigenous people living in the mountains who are apparently pretty friendly and are more than happy to show you the way. All-in-all we decided not to hire a guide ($15) because of the extra expense and because, well, it wouldn’t be as much fun.

Our tablemates at dinner the night earlier decide to join us, which makes me both happy and disappointed. It’s always nice to travel in groups especially through unknown countryside. But on the downside, the woman seems to be pretty high maintenance. Plus, the couple tends to have unproductive squables. Also, Nate thinks that they’d slow us down. But it’s too late to back out now! We’re given a long sturdy stick to fend off dogs and a guide to show us the first part of the route.

We set off! Nate and I kept pace with the local guide, making small talk. The three other hikers quickly fell behind. At one point, the guide pointed way into the distance at a pointed mountain. The one on the right of the picture below! That would be the mountain that we’d be hiking to! Whoa. That’s far! Well, let’s get going!


Right before the guide left us to go back up to Chugchilán, he warned us that no matter if the other people in our group got tired, we should always travel together because there was one place on the route that had some perros peligrosos!



This didn’t sit well with Nate and me because we had planned to do the hike quickly and it was clear that our group mates wouldn’t be able to keep up (and they had the dog-whacking stick!).

We set off on the path, which quickly forked. And forked again. Again and again. We had been told that there would be one fork, but not many! We stayed left. The path dipped down. Across a bridge and then up and up we climbed. Our pants were dust-colored and our sneakers kept slipping in the soft sand. But the higher we got up the view opened up! We were looking out at the rising and falling of the rolling hills. The air got thinner and our breaths quicker!

We looked down and saw the red jackets of the quarrelsome couple WAY down below. They seemed to be stopped and bickering. We waited a little bit, but at the end we decided that we couldn’t wait for them. We climbed and climbed and cut right across a field of purple flowers with grazing sheep. The view was spectacular.


A little boy came up behind us to make sure we knew where we were going. We passed concrete houses with dried grass roofs. Black and white cows dotted the green countryside. We could see the little houses of Chugchilán in the distance where we had left it. We walked along the carretera for a bit until we came to Guyama, a small nothing town with a few crumbling buildings. We are shown two ways to get to the Laguna: the main road and the straight-over-the-mountains dirt path. Guess which one we chose!

We passed a school and a few curious little heads poked out of the doorway. We waved with a buenos días. Soon they were running after us asking to take a picture. We oblige by whipping out our camera, but then they wanted some money for the picture. I’m not about to give 30 kids a tip, that’s a lot of money and I don’t like to pay people to take their picture. I put on a pouty face and said, “but you don’t want to take a picture with us without money?” That won them over, because we all knew that they would love to have their picture taken regardless of money. Kids are kids.

But as soon as we were posed to take the picture, kids flooded out of nowhere! They poured out of the village’s few buildings and started running towards us. Not only kids, but a few adults too! We thank them after a couple pictures and a friendly man walks our way up the narrow dirt path.

He points us in the right direction before his path deviates with ours. We continue with smiles. The view far exceeds our expectations! The farmland mountains extend forever and are cut by winding dirt roads. The whole trip is worth it now!


We’re alone in the countryside. There’s no one within earshot. We come to a few forks in the path and take our chances. Left Right Left Right. Eeny meeny miney moe!

Whoops. Our path ends at a cottage. Looks like we took the wrong turn back there. We cut across the fields to join another path. Huh. That one ends too. Oh no. We’re lost. We look around. There’s no one but two men plowing on the next mountain top over. What are we going to do?

We look around and we are practically alone in the middle of nowhere. We walk around some more and notice a bright red jacket. We cut across potato fields and eagerly join two indigenous women and their vacas. They ask if we need a guide and we say no, a point in the right direction would suffice.

We follow their directions, up and down, and finally we find the narrow path that dips into a brief valley. Whew. A sigh of relief follows.

That relief is VERY short lived though because in the distance we hear dogs barking. We look and they are sprinting towards us. They sound vicious and we do not want to take our chances so we start running down the path into the valley.

We should have known that we would be outmatched. Our lung capacities are far inferior to that of the dogs, especially at that altitude. We make it a few steps and suddenly they are right behind us. I hear them snarling and barking. I know I don’t stand a chance, so before they get too close, I turn and in desperation scream “NO!” at the top of my lungs. My sudden bold action startles them and they back up momentarily. It gives me a chance to gauge the situation. There’s three of them. All pretty big. All pretty unhappy. And is it my imagination or are they spreading out to surround us?!

They bare their teeth and snarl. We wave our weapons (our water bottles) and make as much noise as possible while slowly backing away. I am petrified.

Nate says we should turn and walk away, losing eye contact. But I don’t want to turn my back, I need to see where they are or else I’m defenseless. Nate picks up a decent sized rock and pushes himself between me and the dogs (what a gentleman!). He tells me to go. I slowly start walking backwards, but I’m not going to leave him there alone.

The lead dog gets closer for the attack. It snarls and shows its fangs. The showdown begins. The dog gets closer and closer, barking to show that it means business. Suddenly the dog lunges and gets within a yard of Nate. I scream as it becomes certain that the dog is going to bite Nate. And if it bites Nate, we’d have to get to a hospital. What if it has rabies? What if there is no hospital here in the mountains? What if? What if? What if?!

But at that moment, all the fear drains from Nate’s face. He’s ready. His demeanor says, “Bring it, dog! I’m not scared of you. I’ll break this rock over your head!”

And I guess the dog sensed that change in Nate and briefly retreated. That’s all the time we needed to back out of the valley. We scrambled up the sandy ascent, hearts pounding and hands shaking. I keep looking back to make sure that they are not following us. Nate says that we have to keep walking. Out of sight out of mind, he keeps repeating.

Up and up we climb. My lungs feel like they’re going to explode. I keep stopping to catch my breath, but Nate keeps me going with “venga” and encouragement. My feet keep slipping as we struggle up the hill to the pine forest.


I keep looking behind me. My adrenaline is still pumping. We run into a large group of French tourists and warn them about the dogs. The have walking poles and power in numbers, so we don’t worry about them.

In our paranoid state we keep moving up and up. The view is impressive, but I can’t enjoy it. When my adrenaline runs out, I’m exhausted. The air is thin, but we keep putting one foot in front of the other. I am going really slowly. My ears are trained to the frequency of dog barks.

Up ahead we see that the road just ends. Could it be?! Nate runs up the sand to the top and looks back with his mouth wide open. We made it! The immense laguna extends below us. It is so much bigger and more magnificent than I had imagined.

But the wind had turned bitter and fierce. Our jackets did their best to fend off our fatigue, but the chill crept in and took advantage of our exhausted state. My fingers tingled on the borderline with numb. My cheeks felt sunburnt and feverish. I only thought of getting to the town of Quilotoa for the bus back to Chugchilán. I had no idea how much longer we had.

We started walking the rim of the gigantic volcanic lake. The wind threatened to push us over the side of the volcano. I used my last remaining energy to keep my balance. Everything was tired. I just wanted warmth and to rest my tired limbs.


We followed the path around the laguna. Sometimes we were protected from the wind by the volcanic walls, but sometimes we were out in the open and vulnerable. The clouds were flying overhead at amazing speeds.

One. Two. Three sandpatches. We’re almost there. The path forked: right, towards the laguna or left, towards the outside of the volcano. So far we had been going toward the outside to avoid the wind and it had worked out so far for us. But as soon as I said that, a barking dog appeared in the middle of the path. We freaked out and turned to run. I got no more than a few steps in the deep sand. My legs and lungs refused. It was a good thing that this dog wasn’t aggressive. We followed the inside path.

Up ahead we saw two children! The first people we had seen in maybe an hour! We were overjoyed. We were saved!

We met up with the children. They asked for water, we asked for directions. They asked for $1 to take us the rest of the way to Quilotoa. We settled on $.75. My lips were so numb I could barely get my words out.

We followed them along the path, relieved to have some direction. It wasn’t that much longer until Quilotoa. We saw buildings and civilization. No more endless, personless hills! We said goodbye to our guides and went in search of the Chugchilán-bound bus.

We passed basic hostels, tiny stores, and artisan shops. We were torn. I wanted to explore the town and maybe grab a coffee, but we also wanted to make sure that we found our bus. Up until the dog incident, we were considering climbing back down. But now we wanted to find the bus and pronto!

There were a few scrappy dogs milling around the town. Ordinarily we wouldn’t have thrown them a second glance, but this time we cowered at the sight of them. Can’t be too careful about dogs!

We took shelter in a wooden lodge and waited for the 2pm bus. We did some calculations and figured that we did the 14km hike in 3 hours. At that altitude and that inclination, I think our efforts were impressive.

The bus came and we climbed aboard. Dehydrated and exhausted we bounced along the dusty roads, relieved to be sitting down. The bus grunted along the potholed road coming dangerously close to the steep cliff edge. We pulled into Chugchilán and sank into bed around 3:15pm. What a day!

We snacked on luna and cliff bars (thanks SO much, Mike!), rested, rehydrated, and recounted our adventures. We wondered what had happened to the rest of our pioneering group and hoped, for their sake, that they had turned back and opted for a fourwheeled vehicle. The hike was tougher than we had all thought.

We caught up with them during the well needed dinner of quinoa soup, pork, rice and potatoes! They had somehow made it up to the laguna, but the bitter wind forced them back down before they could walk around the rim. So they walked the 14km up the mountain... and 14 km back down! Wow! We didn't even think that they would make it up once, but they outdid us and our expectations! We traded stories and exclamations of relief that we were all back in the warmth of the main cabin. What a great end to a tough day!