The Quilotoa Loop
Latacunga
October 2023
With Pedro still in the mechanic, we decided to get out of Quito and get some fresh air! We got a transfer from our hostel to Latacunga, the town nearest to the Cotopaxi volcano. By chance, we were in Latacunga on the weekend of the Mama Negra festival. This is a celebration of the Virgen de la Merced, who is said to have stopped an eruption of Cotopaxi volcano in 1742. Cotopaxi has been steadily letting off steam for the last 5 years, and a big eruption is overdue. It felt a bit like tempting fate for everyone to be out partying when a big eruption that would wipe out the town could be imminent!
The festival was something to behold! People were carrying the carcasses of disemboweled pigs adorned with dead chickens, guinea pigs, packs of cigarettes, and bottles of spirits, which are meant as an offering to God. There were hundreds of men and boys in elaborate drag, who walked around whipping the men in the audience and offering them shots of aguardiente (moonshine). They would also surround volunteers from the audience lining the streets and 'cleanse' them in the name of the Shamans, but the cleansing is not what you might expect. It involves being rubbed all over with a live guinea pig and eucalyptus leaves. We watched the parade for a while, until hunger got the better of us, and we hid in a little Mexican restaurant shoving tacos in our faces as the crowds flung past outside. The festivities went on all night, but we retired to our hostel for an early night.
The next morning, we caught a local bus for $4 to Quilotoa. The bus seemed a bit unusual. The inside was covered in signs that the driver had clearly written, from some previous encounters where God knows what had happened. One of them we translated as "Who's driving? You or me? Don't f*ck with me!". We were chuffed with ourselves for getting the front seats with a view out of the windscreen, to minimise motion sickness. However, the bus stopped every few hundred yards, and people just kept piling on. This meant people were leaning on Justin, standing right in front of us so we couldn't see at all, and stamping on our toes as they stumbled up the steps as the driver jolted off before they'd fully got on. No one seemed to have any teeth, and there was a lot of coughing (more on this later). However, after a couple of hours, we arrived at Quilotoa with our little backpacks, and we set off!
The Quilotoa Loop
We decided to hike the loop clockwise, which was less uphill. Doing the route this way round meant we got the prized view right at the start - the Quilotoa lake. We hiked round half of the perimeter of the 3km wide crater lake, with awesome views of it from all angles, the water changing from shades of deep turquoise to green every time we looked. We were very lucky with the weather, and after some horrendous storms in Quito, and forecast storms around Quilotoa, we had a clear day, with blue skies and a bit of a breeze.
The route was still quite up and down, and the downs were arguably harder than the ups as they were near vertical drops with only sand beneath your feet. At one point after a difficult descent, we met a stubborn donkey, "hee-hawing" loudly and blocking the path. We tried to approach him but he looked like he wanted to bite or kick us so we kept our distance until eventually a small boy who mustn't have been more than 5 years old appeared and held his donkey back to let us past!
The first day was an undulating 13km with spectacular views over several valleys. We reached a lovely lodge for the night in Chugchillan where we relaxed with a sauna, a glass of red wine by the fire, and a family-style dinner where we met fellow hikers.
The second day was another 13km again with amazing weather. We spent the night at the rather luxurious "Llullu Llama" hotel in Isinlivi, where we enjoyed another spa, complete with a sauna and jacuzzi, copious amounts of red wine, and an amazing home-baked chicken pie! We also caught up with a friend we'd met in the hostel in Quito, Scottish Ian, who was doing the loop in the opposite direction.
Our trusty walking boots were locked inside a broken Pedro at the mechanic, so we were forced to do the hike in trainers - big mistake! By day 3, the pain in Em's feet, squashed inside the most mediocre of indoor gym trainers was unbearable. We had heard you can skip hiking on the final day by catching a lift on the back of a milk truck (exactly how it sounds). After a bit of confusion about whether we'd missed it, a truck full of milk turned up in town and we jumped on the back. We were squashed in with huge urns of milk, but it was open-topped and we had lovely views of the valley. Along the way, the truck would stop at tiny family farms where traditionally clothed women were waiting with a small jug, and some milk (which had probably been in a cow minutes before) was poured from the big urn. We witnessed one exchange where a woman swapped 2 litres of milk for $1 and a small bottle of soda the driver seemed happy to accept.
However, a few minutes later, when climbing up a particularly gnarly hill, a tyre burst. At this point, we decided we'd saved our feet enough and decided to walk to last 8km to the end of the trail as we had time.
We arrived in the rather drab town of Sigchos with a little too much time on our hands, but eventually we could catch a bus direct back to Quito and once again check into the trusty Secret Garden hostel, where unfortunately Em succumbed to a terrible illness we suspect was covid, caught from all the minging people on the bus.
