Day 14: Tour by Walking, Quilotoa Loop

What a rare thing it is, to have a through-hike in sweeping-view countryside with little villages ideally placed to stay each night in a cozy hostel, not having to schlep your camping gear. We have completed the first day of the famed Quilotoa Loop, from the village of Sigchos to the smaller village of Isinlivi. It was wonderful to wake up this morning, know I was going on a hike, and know that I wouldn't have to return to sleep, that my destination would offer a bed. It was also wonderful carrying everything I needed just on my back: water, some snacks, first aid kit, and my small monotonous portion of clothing. It felt really free and resourceful and content. I did jettison some things in the hostel before I left, to lighten the load (a travel pillow, my hat which Elise had named the Flopness Monster, and two shirts I can live without though they compromised 40% of my wardrobe).

This hike offers sweeping views of the Andes, little square fields set like quilts in among craggy peaks, green pastures, dirt roads cutting in and out of valleys, bridges over streams, the three sisters of corn and beans and squash all growing together in small fields. Cows gaze at us as we pass, and the local people caring for their small farms bid us good morning and hello. A little truck with two huge milk jugs went trundling past when our path was on the road, but that was the only vehicle we encountered. Some of the trail is on a narrow footpath along hillsides or through pastures, and some is on rocky dusty roads. All of it has been beautiful so far. 

 

 

We were concerned that we'd be walking wetly and grumpily in the unavoidable later-day rain, but so gratefully we arrived at our destination just as the first few drops fell. Today was just under 7 miles and 2,000 feet elevation gain. I was indeed panting with the elevation during the climbs, but the heart and lungs are powerful and along I went. 

 

 

Our route! For those of you who like maps.

 

Our destination was a hostel called Llulu Llama, and the stay there was as delicious as the hike itself. Because we finished our walking by noon, I actually had time to recline on a couch and without objective flip through a book. This place feels like a retreat center, peaceful, intentional, with beautiful Andes views. A German couple sat cross-legged on a couch and ate a plate of toast and looked at each other, a woman with fly-away grey hair sat on a foot stool, intent in a guidebook, eating a pack of chips. There was yoga to look forward to, and the jacuzzi was heating up. Even though $19 per person for a little bed in the dorm felt like a lot compared with what we'd been paying in other places, it included the yoga and sauna, and dinner and breakfast. And gardens and bottomless tea and coffee and a bunch of friendly other travelers. Most people were German, there was one group of Canadian women. I told them I grew up on Lake Ontario and that we were neighbors of sorts.  

Llulu Llama Hostel

I was impressed with the hostel's commitment to the environment (composting toilets and reminders to turn off the lights, recycling) and to the community (employing local people and offering health benefits, sourcing produce and milk from local small farms). I read that 65% of the local folks in this area live under $1 a day. 

Dinner was one of the best meals in Ecuador so far. Standard Ecuadorian dinners are salt on a bed of rice with salt on some meat, with little greenery or herbs to be found, maybe some plantains. But at Llulu Llama, there was a big bowl of green bean and tomato salad, and an onion quiche, followed by pineapple icecream that was somehow more pineappley than the fruit itself. Everything was served family style, and we sat at big tables according to whether we were vegan, vegetarian, or meat eaters. Us travelers from all over the world passed bowls around and served each other, and sharing travel stories among everyone was so great. 

 

Dinner, family style.