Having avoided the ketchup bandits of Quito, I was keen to explore elsewhere, and at the back of mind there was an image of returning to England, and being asked, "what do you mean you didn't get me a present?". To avoid such moments of awkwardness, I made my way to Otovalo which has one of the most famous markets in all of South America. The indigenous people from the surrounding hills all descend in force on Friday night in anticipation for the carnage of Saturday's market. On a normal day there are a couple of streets full of stalls, but on Saturday, the market spreads like a zombie virus through the adjoining streets and completely takes over the town square called the Plaza de Ponchos, and no, you're not all getting ponchos.
The market is huge and with every conceivable thing made from Alpaca or Wool, the colours were simply incredible. It was like stepping into an episode of the BBC's Any Dream Will Do but far more colourful and without the need to keep asking my old house-mate Helen why I was being forced to watch this crap. Otovalo's growing reputation means that the market is now more of a tourist must-see than the market from previous years, but I was not disappointed to see some of the old market's more quirky elements. Namely the shrunken heads:
Also, rumours that the former Big Breakfast stars Zig and Zag were hiding out in the hills of Northern Ecuador were not it seems, with out some truth. Their disguises could not fool me:
I was very keen to buy something woolly to keep me warm in Cotopaxi, so amongst picking up a few things for Brits back home I picked up a lined red and black hoody. Now dressed as Dennis the Menace, but without the accompanying immaturity ("yeah right" I hear you say) I headed back south, past Quito and onto to the mountains of Cotopaxi National Park.
Unable to find people in Quito to climb Cotopaxi with, I set off for a hostel next to the park in an attempt at least to get things moving. I stayed in a place called Papagayo, the place now directly responsible for my addiction to American style pancakes, and alas responsible for giving me back the stone in weight I had previously miss-placed in Central America.
Unable to find climbing partners straight away, I went with my new Aussie friends Bonnie and Craig on a day trip to Quilotoa. The ex-cons from New South Wales were a great laugh and they even tried to hook me up with their hot Auzzie girlfriends living in Europe. I think this would have been a good compromise, as my Mum said she'd kill me if I fell for an Auzzie girl and moved down under. Personally I think it would be worth it, at least as long as England have the Ashes, good fun baiting the criminals about the cricket!
Quilotoa is, or rather was a beast of a volcano until 800 years ago when a Krakatoa sized eruption destroyed it. There is now a giant lake where the other half of the volcano used to be...
Quilotoa is, or rather was a beast of a volcano until 800 years ago when a Krakatoa sized eruption destroyed it. There is now a giant lake where the other half of the volcano used to be...
The summit used to be over 6000 m high, but post tantrum it is now 3400m, so fairly big then. The eruption caused a huge quake near by separating the landscape somewhat. The result would make an excellent 18-hole golf course, I think Tiger would find it difficult to get his balls out of that one.
We trekked down and back up Quilotoa, and for my first taste of altitude I was pleased with my progress but somewhat surprised when realised I had no need to take my pulse as I could hear my heart like it was thumping bass drum. Back at the hostel we were treated to post climbing cake and tea, and alas I was still without people to climb with, so duly departed the next day for the Jungle.
After spending most of the day on buses I arrived in the Oriente. I was in the rain forrest and I was supremely shocked at the change in climate. I had gone from freezing nights and clear warm days where there were no mosquitoes, to baking hot and humid days where simply put everything bites, I had the feeling that I prefer beach, hills and mountains, as opposed to hot sweaty jungle. Thankfully I had found a solution to get wet.
It's GRIPPED! Lets go White-water rafting! (Fastshow reference for those who didn't get that).
Like an excitable school child I arrived at the rafting agency office, and after some brief introductions we had a team of rafters from Washington, New York.... and Woking. Also accompanying us were two kayakers (for safety) and our guides, Luis and Abby. Despite a flat tyre we made it to the drop off point and slipped and slided our way to the rivers edge. Before getting under way, our guide Abby decided we needed to "warm up" a bit so took us to a near by waterfall, and told us all to jump off or else, which we naturally did, only about 35-40 feet.
Finally underway in the raft, I was surprised to learn that one of the girls from NYC on the boat couldn't actually swim. So it makes absolute sense to go white water rafting then doesn't it? Muppet. Thankfully the raft guide Luis didn't relent the pace despite carrying a non swimmer (holding on for dear life at the back of the raft) especially as he proceeded to take us down the bigger rapids backwards (the poor girl).
After putting us through countless waterfalls we were all soaked, so I took it upon myself to even the score with the kayakers, soaking them whenever the got too close. We then stopped for lunch. Abby's mum had over ordered on the picnic, but we made our best attempt and 3 big burritos later I was not only stuffed, I was in danger of sinking if I went overboard, life jacket or not!
The afternoon was great fun, but the highlight had to be riding the boat bronco style. We took it turns, sitting on the bow of the raft with a rope between our legs whilst going over the rapids. The trick was to hold on with just one hand and with the other to wave an imaginary cowboy hat in the air and still hold on. When I turned around for some congratulations at staying on board despite some quite gnarly rapids, I was promptly pushed in. Bastards.
The biggest mistake of the day was that I had left my camera, that's right, the water & shock proof camera, ideal for taking rafting, in my room. So I am still trying to hunt down the photos from Ben, in Washington, but hopefully I'll have them soon. The next day I headed back to Papagayo in Cotopaxi, as fellow climbers had been found and I needed to get some practice for the almighty Volcan Cotopaxi...the largest active volcano in the world.
photos in the usual place
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