Chapter 14: Saraguro

  7:00AM. Hiking pants. Hiking shoes. Hiking Shirt. Scarf. Water-proof jacket. 3 hours on the bus. Let's go climb something! 5 miles into the beginning of the trip, rest stop for gas and snacks. Loaf of chocolate bread, yogurt, chocolate amor wafers; back to the transportation vehicle. The staccato beats of the morning travel routine all around me, but smooth tranquil rhythms of Sufjan Steven's album "Feel the Illinoise" on my headphones. Stop for vista. Tour guide says on one side you can see the Andes Mountain range, the other side its possible to see the Pacific Ocean in the far distance on clear days. I'm calling bologna on that one, there was not a cloud in sight and no matter how far on the horizon I searched, I saw no horizon. So bologna. Bolgona I say! The Sufjan Stevens record ended. Album switch. This time to Seawolf's "White Water, White Bloom". Songs about Orion the hunter, lost love and glowing grass in the moonlight mixed with winding Andean mountain roads.

   We arrived in Saraguro, dropped a few of our things in the hotel then reloaded ourselves onto a different bus. This bus was especially different because it had wooden benches in open air aside from a tin roof to shelter the benches from rain. The benches were not very comfortable in the least and the road was bumpy. We stopped talk about an Indian dwelling. For the second leg of the open air bus ride we were allowed to climb onto the roof of the bus to sit up top for the duration of our travels. Surprisingly the roof made for a much smoother ride. The only obstacle was watching out for hanging branches that could hit faces or swipe cameras out from wayward hands. We disembarked from the tin roof and began a hike to end all hikes. Only our guide truly knew where we were going, the path was narrow, the scenery was beautiful and the clouds were scant in the sky. The whole hike reminded me of hiking through the Grand Canyon, complete with vertigo and the adrenaline. Since I know it was on the top of everyone's mind: yes I peed off the side of the mountain, you're welcome.

   Lunch was two hamburgers with papas fritas and mustard, either I was starving or I have rarely had hamburgers of similar caliber, so so good. After a break and lunch we set back the other way. The pressure had dropped during our break and those sneaky ecuadorian clouds had set in. We kept hearing thunder louder and louder as we hiked, it seemed to be approaching us, yet I did not see any lightning. We layered up with raincoats and scarfs and started hotelwards. It was a successful hike all around.

   We had a chance to rest for awhile, I took one of my best naps of this entire trip. I had some sort of dream revelation, but sadly I cannot recall what the revelation pertained to. By 7pm it was pitch-black outside and freezing. Before dinner we stopped at an indigenous textile workshop. They used large wooden looms to create intricate patterns and many shapes. They demonstrated the technique for us, showing how the pieces slide together to create a new line in the growing cloth, the worker's feet manouevering through the pedals to coordinate the next type of yarn to be used.

   Dinner was at a small family restaurant where we sat on long benches and at grey beans, rice, squeaky cheese, and chicken soup. After dinner we were treated to an Andean music demonstration. The players included a flautist, a percussionist, violin and guitar. They played and we danced about in a circle. Three songs later they asked us if we had anyone who could play music in our group. We elected Ross. Autumn, Isaac and I joined him in fumbling our way through a few songs. We started with Oxford Comma but couldn't remember one of the verses so we switched to first "Jolene" by Ray Lamontagne and then "Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying" by Belle and Sebastian. The Ecuadorains said although they couldn't understand the words, the music was beautiful and we put a lot of energy and feeling into the songs.

  The rest of the evening was spent sitting by our hotel's outdoor fire sipping Pilsener's. Pilsener is not a superb beer, but sometimes all you need is a crappy bottle of beer, a warm fire and good conversation.

                                                           ---

The next day the sun struck with a vengeance, it was hotter than hot. Any humidity in the air was instantly evaporated into the clouds miles above our heads. We took another hike, shorter this time, only 15 minutes or so to a small clearing where two women had set our blankets on the ground for a ritual. We spent the next hour or so participating in said ritual. It was interesting, to say the least. 

Ray Lamontagne
Jolene


Belle and Sebastian
Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying

Chapter 12: How I got my hiking shoes

  I think this story is decently relevant to my travels, if you disagree, that´s alright. About a year and a half ago during my winter break we realized my hiking shoes were on their last legs. My mother and I drove off to the mall in search of new shoes. We ended up going to either Macy´s or Dillard´s to search for a suitable replacement pair. The first thing I noticed as we approached the shoe department was that the man working looked exactly like Santa Claus. Like Miracle on 34th Street lookalike. We started browsing while Santa-salesman helped someone else. As I looked at the different shoes on display, I heard him talking to the customer, not only did he look exactly like Santa, he also sounded exactly what I imagine Santa to sound like. No he didn´t go ¨Ho, ho, ho!¨ but he had a certain joviality to his voice. I started cracking up at the ridiculous situation. I tried to contain my laughter, but I could not, so I told my mom we needed to take a walk, she raised an eyebrow and asked, ¨Are you serious?¨ I answered yes, we walked away and rode the escalator up a floor.

   I giggled almost continuously for the next 15-20 minutes, trying my best to get myself under control. After the laughing fit subsisted gradually I said I was ready to return to the shoe department. Luckily upon returning, Santa-salesman had gone on his break. Instead I had a fairly plain, boring, but knowledgeable salesman to help me. In no time at all I found a pair of very comfortable, water-proof hiking shoes. Our non-santa-salesman said the last person to buy this pair had been a man planning an expedition to Machu Picchu. This gave me doubts, you see the most I was planning on using them for at that moment was to keep my feet dry in the winter through the snow and wet. Did I really need a pair of shoes that were equipped to handle such rugged adventures? Well, yes as you never know what might happen, and in fact now I have myself taken them to Ingapirca, so I think the score is settled.