Yes, I'm back with another 'adventure' blog for your reading enjoyment.
This time I left the 150 foot waterfalls of Baños behind and headed three hours south to take a bike ride down one of the world's highest active volcanoes, Cotopaxi.
A trip to Cotopaxi had been in the works for awhile, but after the struggles of climbing Pichincha, I was certain that I did not want to climb it. Not only is it higher than Pichincha, it's also colder and snow-capped. Each time I saw it's white, frosty top glinting in the sunlight, all I could envision was my colorless fingers and the painful hours I spent on top of Pichincha.
I wasn't sure what else could be done on or near a volcano aside from climbing it, so when I discovered it was possible to bike down Cotopaxi, I was all in. I would get to be right on the volcano without having to commit to the brutally cold ascent to its peak. (My fingers silently rejoiced.)
Of course I immediately invited the other Ibarra volunteer, Ashley, to join me and from there our group swiftly grew to include her boyfriend and four other volunteers from the September group. Suddenly, I was planning a group event!
My Type-A side stepped in and did its thing and I managed to get the tour booked, a hostel reserved and everyone coordinated (including a few last-minute additions and drop-outs) to be at our meeting point in Quito on Saturday, October 26th at 7am on the dot.
My biggest fear for the whole trip was the weather. Nothing would be more miserable than biking down a mountain in the pouring rain. Since I had organized the whole event, I felt partially responsible for everyone's enjoyment. If it rained the entire time and everyone was miserable, it was going to be an awkward bus ride home. (If they even let me ride inside.) So when I woke up Saturday morning to mainly blue skies, I was hugely relieved to say the least. The day was off to a great start.
We met up with the rest of the tour group at a cafe a few blocks from our hostel. There we met Fernando, our slightly-too-energetic-for-7am tour guide. (Although, I guess a guy who bikes down volcanoes for a living does need a certain amount of va-voom.) The rest of our group consisted mainly of German tourists (obviously) and some guys from Holland.
As we all said our "hellos," I surreptitiously checked them all out. Was that the slight bulge of a well-toned calf muscle under those capris? Were those custom-made biking shoes? I couldn't help it. My competitive side kicked in and I wanted to know just how ridiculous and out of shape I was going to look next to these rugged, wilderness junkies.
Because our group was rather large (I think there were 13 of us?) we were split into two jeeps to make the 1 1/2 hour trek to Cotopaxi. Thankfully, I ended up with the girls from our WorldTeach group so I didn't spend the entire trip eyeballing bicep circumferences.
Cotopaxi isn't just an active volcano. It's also a 130 square mile national park that has its own museum, and is home to Limpiopungo Lagoon, three other volcanoes and a host of wild animals including bears, deer, condors, foxes, and wild horses. We stopped at the entrance of the park to register (its required) and were told that these were the last bathrooms we would see until late in the afternoon. We were also encouraged to take advantage of the warm wool accessories for sale if we had failed to bring our own hats, gloves, and scarves. I had brought gloves and was wearing two jackets, a long-sleeved tee, a short-sleeved tee, leggings and shorts. After Pichincha, I was leaving nothing to chance. Or so I thought...
The minute we stepped out of the jeep at the starting point of the ride I immediately wished I had worn six more layers. The gentle breeze that had been blowing at the park entrance had turned into an icy, gale-force wind that could have easily knocked over a small child. (Or a balance-challenged, 5'9" gringa. Just sayin'...)
The need to look cute was instantly replaced by the instinct to survive. On went the gloves, up went the zippers on my jackets, down went the leggings into my socks, and over went the hood on my head. Aside from my face, there was not a speck of bare skin to be seen. (see pic below)
Now that I was as properly attired as was possible, all I wanted to do was hop on a bike and get to a lower altitude as soon as possible. Fernando quickly reviewed the basics of using a 21 speed, told us that each bike had been set to 2nd gear, and that we shouldn't mess with gears 1-3 on the left handlebar at all. If we needed to shift up or down, we were told to just use gears 1-7 on the right handlebar. (Don't forget this little tidbit, it factors into the story later.)
And then we were off. I honestly don't know what I was expecting. I had never been downhill biking before but somehow being blown back and forth on a 60 degree angle trail consisting solely of sand and gravel on a frighteningly insubstantial bike was not what I had anticipated. If you loosened your grip on the handbrakes just the tiniest bit, your bike instantly started racing down the mountainside at an alarming rate. And seeing as there was a hairpin curve every few meters, my hands never left their deathgrip on the brakes.
Keep in mind that those gale-force winds were still doing their thing this entire time. This mean that 1) my already precarious balance was made even precarious-er and that 2) after about 1-2km I had lost all feeling in my hands. (Sound familiar? Keep in mind I had two pairs of gloves on.)
I decided that saving my fingers was far more important than maintaining my pride so I waited for the jeeps (who were following us) and decided to ride inside for the remaining 4-ish kilometers to the next meeting point. Clearly, I wasn't the only one having issues. As soon as the other WT girls saw that I was ditching my bike for the heated jeep, they quickly hopped off their bikes too and joined me. Apparently, none of them could feel their fingers either. I can only imagine how many fingers would have been left along the Cotopaxi trail if none of us had admitted that we were having trouble.
It's amazing what a difference 6km made. By the time we reached the next meeting point, the temperature had drastically increased and the wind had drastically decreased. Now I was ready to hit the trail! I hopped back on my bike and set off at the front of the group (I had to regain just a little bit of my pride).
Since I was finally biking in earnest, I realized that I needed to adjust my gears. Following Fernando's instructions, I left my left gearshift alone and started clicking my right gearshift. Nothing. I clicked up. I clicked down. Still nothing. Great, I thought. Typical non-functioning Ecua-bike. I should have known.
I was clearly distracted while I fiddled with my "broken" gearshift. We were still headed downhill (though at a lesser incline) so I was going at a fairly brisk pace and the path was still littered with rocks, holes and patches of sand. I kept looking up, down, up, down, trying to check my chain while also avoiding any hazardous obstacles.
What happened next was so quick that I'm still not entirely sure what happened. One minute I was on my bike. The next, I wasn't. I vaguely remember swerving to avoid something. Perhaps a rock? And then my right side was slamming into the ground and my bike was on top of me.
I think I was more startled than hurt. (Aaand there went that pride again. I couldn't seem to hang onto the tiniest shred of dignity that day.) The bikers behind me jerked to a halt and wanted to know if I was okay and was anything broken? I jumped up as quickly as I had fallen and brushed off their concern. I was fine, just a little shaken up and annoyed that my bike was not working.
Back on the bike I went and we were off once again. At the next meeting point, I looked down and saw this:
Once I had caught up with Fernando, I immediately pointed out that my bike gears were not working properly. After a thoroughly demeaning speech on How One Uses a 21 Speed Bike (Revised for Slower Learners), I patiently explained that I understood the concept and had used 21 speed bikes before.
You want to know what the problem was? My bike had been left in 1st gear (it somehow was skipped during the bike check) and so, of course, gears 1-7 were not working! And since the numbers were missing from the gearshifts (again, typical Ecua-bike) I had no way of knowing what gear I was or was not in.
Well, after that little issue was resolved, the rest of the day was simply beautiful. I couldn't get enough of the insane vistas that surrounded us on all sides. One minute I felt as though I was on the wide open plains of Montana (it has plains, right?), the next on the wild tundras of Alaska, and then the rolling hillsides of some quaint European country. With every dip and curve in the road an entirely new scene rolled itself out before me.
There was also lots of wildlife, just as the website had promised.
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| I don't know that this little guy counts as "wildlife" per se, but he was cute and deserved a picture too. |
And Fernando also picked a great lunch spot for taking photos. We stopped to eat at the Inca ruins and after a short uphill hike we found ourselves on top of a massive hill overlooking miles and miles of the Cotopaxi park.
After lunch and a quick bathroom break (behind the jeep...take that, rugged wilderness junkies!) we got back on our bikes for the last 13 kilometers. The rest of the bike trip continued to be spectacular (and injury-free) and, before I was ready, it was time to pack up the bikes and head back to Quito.
I know I've gone on about this before, but the natural diversity here in Ecuador is unbelievable. In just a few hours you can go from beaches to volcanoes and from mountains to the Amazon. And if that's not enough, you can always hop a plane to the Galapagos and be awed all over again. Every time I think that Ecuador can't surprise me any further, it just whips out another natural wonder from behind its back and floors me once again.
Man, I'm going to miss you Ecuador!
(For all of the pics from my trip, click here)
