It's amazing to think that it was already over a week ago when this trip to the south was embarked upon, and it just goes to show how quickly time can pass when you're kept busy and occupied. With another three months left in Ecuador,…Read More

It's amazing to think that it was already over a week ago when this trip to the south was embarked upon, and it just goes to show how quickly time can pass when you're kept busy and occupied. With another three months left in Ecuador, I really hope all my time passes this fast. Although my time here has been rewarding and highly enjoyable, sometimes home comforts prove far more appealing.

After the appalling weather a day earlier in Ingapirca, I had no expectations for today's day trip to the nearby El Cajas National Park, a place shrouded in rain and mist for most of the year. Leaving Cuenca, sun bursting through the quickly evaporating clouds, I wasn't that optimistic that such weather would be found at the end of the hour journey to the parks entrance. Seemingly though, a certain high and powerful person had decided to smile down nicely today and for the duration of the day only the chance of sunburn proved a problem.

Although so close to Cuenca, it's amazing how much of a change can take place in such a short time. Wilderness is the only word I can use to describe the location. Add this to the normal lousy weather experienced here and it's not hard to see why visitor numbers are constantly low, so low in fact that only six other visitors were met during my time spent here. This only adds to the tranquillity.

Tranquillity and wilderness was virtually assured, but I wasn't quite prepared for the unbelievable beauty on offer, losing count of the lagoons and lakes visible in only a short walk from the main road, surrounded by tiny colourful flowers and Quinoa forests, the twisted, crooked trunks and branches looking like they came straight from a horror movie. On entering this strange forest, light quickly disappears allowing you to stumble your way through drenched mosses and a variety of weird looking fungus.

El Cajas certainly wouldn't have the same beauty if it was flat, and the hilly, sometimes mountainous environment only adds to the attraction, creating rippling and cascading sounds every turn you make. Of all the places visited in Ecuador, including the Amazon and the Galapagos, El Cajas has to be the most picturesque and boasts picture perfect scenery. I could have happily hiked and camped here for a few days, if the good weather held out and I wasn't confronted by sub-zero night time temperatures, but with the last bus back to Quito passing by at 4pm, then only a few hours worth of hiking was possible. This went surprisingly well considering the steep terrain and a nasty tumble at the start where I slid down a 10m hill nothing but the smoothness of my behind.

There was no problem flagging a bus down back to Cuenca and my last night in this mesmerising city was spent eating Mexican for the eighth straight day and observing a startling number of badly dressed transvestites, their feminine wigs easily noticed. I was able to avert my eyes from such an attractive sight long enough to watch the moon rise over the surrounding hills, it's orange glow for a minute making me wonder if a nearby volcano was erupting, rather than a harmless little moon rising into the night sky.

With an eight hour bus journey needed the following day, where sleeping certainly speeds up the journey, back to my home on the slopes of Cotopaxi Volcano it was a good job a spot of shut-eye wasn't a priority. Throughout the night piercing sirens wailed across the city, as though World War III had broken out, joined by the spontaneous ringing of church bells and loud whizzing fireworks. I have a feeling all three were connected in some religious way, but their exact meaning will always remain a mystery.

The following day sadly saw the end of my current bout of travelling, finishing with the very uneventful eight hour bus ride back home, and my current job of teaching young children the joys of the English language. With such a thought on my mind, you can't really blame me for pigging out on more or less every type of bus food imaginable. From fried pig skin to ice-cream nothing seemed to satisfy my hunger cravings. Before returning back to work the following day, I still had time to play around with my weeks worth of facial hair growth, disgusting my girlfriend by turning it into something even the legend Hulk Hogan himself would have been proud of. It soon bit the dust upon the realisation I would never be receiving another kiss from my future wife ever again.

The time spent travelling through the south of Ecuador was a highly rewarding trip, and something that exceeded all my expectations. There is such a diverse range of landscapes here, both urban and natural, which will always keep you on your toes. If having more time on your hands, you could easily end up spending many a week in this part of the country.Close

After the best nights sleep in a long, long time and a breakfast fit for kings at El Pavon Real (Calle Gran Columbia 8-33, Tel: 846678), which for the first time since coming to South America I got to taste one of my favourite foods,…Read More

After the best nights sleep in a long, long time and a breakfast fit for kings at El Pavon Real (Calle Gran Columbia 8-33, Tel: 846678), which for the first time since coming to South America I got to taste one of my favourite foods, bacon, although it didn't quite live up to the quality back home, it was time to partake it a day's worth of sightseeing around the city, which isn't that much of a hard job considering how compact the old colonial centre is.

Museums for me, although full of interesting artifacts and information, quickly lose my interest. Not through any fault of their own, but it seems I am just not a museum type of person, with my maximum interest threshold reached after a pathetic two hours. It was therefore a bold move to make Museo de Banco Central (Calle Larga, Mon-Fri 9am-6pm, Sat 9am-1pm, $3 entry) the first port of call, a fifteen minute walk from the Cathedral of Immaculate Conception. The museum comes complete with its own set of Incan ruins, Parque Ecologica de Pumpaungo, housing remains of Tomebamba, the Incan's most powerful northern city of their once powerful empire. The entrance ticket to the museum gains you entry to both. As to be expected, seeing a huge collection of religious art and old money stock soon had me in a bout of uncontrollable yawns. Add to this enough old pottery scraps to put both Royal Dolton and Wedgwood out of business and I was already dreaming of walking through the exit. Luckily the museum saves its best display until last, a look at the remarkable diversity of Ecuador's population and the different tribes that constitute to this. From the Manabi on the coast to the naked Huaorani in the jungle, there must be a good thirty different tribes represented here with a mass of information to boot, although only the Shuar tribe, the highlight of the display, complete with a collection of human shrunken heads for me the best part had their displays in English as well as Spanish.

From avidly reading every last word of the information on the subject of shrinking heads, it does sound quite a grotesque operation, having to take all the bones out of the face in a drawn-out process. Gladly, due to Ecuadorian law, this tradition is virtually a thing of the past, although it does allow for the head of sloth’s to be used in place of a human's. Not really fair when you consider even a crawling baby could outpace a sloth for speed if the need arose.

After a quick walk around the disappointing Incan ruins, consisting of reconstructed walls reaching no higher than my knees it was time to continue with the rest of the days sightseeing extravaganza, albeit slightly delayed after finding the best piece of technology since arriving in Ecuador; a change machine. Having change in Ecuador is always a problem, and not having the right money often leads to niggling little arguments with people who see this as the perfect opportunity to short change you. Nine times out of ten, you win the argument, even if it means jumping on a moving bus to retrieve $0.50 (yes, I know I can get a little carried away from time to time!), but such confrontations start to where you down. This must be why I pumped $50 into this heavenly equipment. With enough change jangling to alert every pick-pocket in the country I really should have known better.

There are enough churches in Cuenca to last anyone a good days viewing if they want a detailed inspection, but if a quick look inside and out, a photo or two is all you desire, then they can easily be covered in a couple of hours at the very most, including Cathedral of Immaculate Conception, Catederal Vieja, Iglesia San Alfonso, Iglesia El Carmen, Iglesia Santo Domingo, Iglesia San Sebastian and San Blas. That evening, looking back over the church photos I’d taken, I was already confused to which was which, all of them blurring together into one big horrible nightmare!

Located outside of almost every church in Cuenca is a procession of homeless, beggars, and cripples, who groan to you for a few cents. Trying to avoid their looks of self-pity and their groping hands is more difficult than I imagine trying to avoid Michael Barrymore's hotspots was during his heyday. It's impossible not to feel sorry for them all, but giving to one would mean wanting to give to all. You do wonder if they might have a little more good fortune by actually entering the churches and participating in a spot of praying and repenting, instead of relying solely on a few cents of charity every day to survive. A harsh existence for sure.

With the afternoon in full swing and ample time to spare, it meant a spot of souvenir buying could be indulged in. The amount of souvenirs already in my possession is already enough to compete with the very best in Otavalo, but seeing Cuenca is famous for the Panama hat, something my collection failed to contain, it was rude not to at least look. This was news to me as I always though Panama hats were from Panama. Within the city of Cuenca there are a number of factories who open their doors and charge a nice entrance fee to show you in great detail the delightful ways how a Panama hat is made. Not having a budget for this and not sure how appealing it sounded, a visit to the nearby Alberto Pulla, located in the city centre on Calle Tarqui 6-91 was deemed a better option.

Alberto Pulla is a legend in the world of Panama hats and is famous throughout the world, making these hats for over seventy years, since the age of six. He is known as the 'voiceless panama', as under circumstance unbeknown to myself his voice is non-existent, with hawk eyes and a good lip-reading ability needed in order to communicate. Not the easiest job in the world if your Spanish skills are as bad as mine. After looking at his downstairs factory, where the majority of hats made are for the local indigenous population, who scowl at the word panama, you are taking upstairs to a smaller workshop, with a vast array of internationally accepted panamas on offer. Upon buying one he quickly rolls it up, sticks it in a lightweight wooden box and writes your very own message from the great man himself. I don't think many people in the world get such a personal gift like this from one of the worlds most famous and prestigious Panama hat makers!Close

Making an early start was necessary to arrive into Cuenca with enough daylight hours to taste a first glimpse of the city, but even after leaving Loja at 9am, a little later than wanted, I was not expecting the journey to Cuenca to take six…Read More

Making an early start was necessary to arrive into Cuenca with enough daylight hours to taste a first glimpse of the city, but even after leaving Loja at 9am, a little later than wanted, I was not expecting the journey to Cuenca to take six hours, over two hours more than outward journey through the night a few days earlier. I certainly appreciate these types of journeys through the night, with the mountain hugging, winding roads, becoming a sickening affair.

Along the way I was hoping for decent scenery, scenery I had yet to witness during my time in Ecuador. As I should have known it was identical to everywhere else visited in the Ecuadorian Sierra, lush greenery, criss-crossed with a patchwork of farms and ploughed fields colouring the landscape with a multitude of green, yellow and browns. Even this wasn't visible for the majority of the journey, the surrounding hills and valleys covered in thick layers of cloud and mist.

Although landscapes might have been similar, one contrast was the inhabitants, who seemed to be a much purer breed of indigenous Indians, said to have a pure bloodline directly back to the Inca's themselves. Their dress was also distinct from other tribes, with grown men walking around in black attire and sporting three-quarter length trousers, something I once tried while living in Kenya, but after repeatedly mistaken for a butch lesbian, I decided against wearing them for the rest of my life. As many men here have hair matching the hair of their loved ones, I wonder if they are ever faced with such ghastly misinterpretations.

The colour black certainly seems to be in fashion, with the women also sporting this dark colour. Seeing whole towns going about their daily business dressed in nothing but black, many huddled together taking in the days gossip while spinning their freshly cut sheep wool, is a very strange, if not sinister sight. It would be like if everyone in my home town back in England turned out for the same funeral and then decided to wear the same clothes for the rest of the day. Although many towns from Loja to Cuenca sport this behaviour it is the town of Saraguro, approximately 80kms north of Loja that highlights the tradition in its purest form. If I had more time and had realised how long the bus journey was, it would have been nice to relax in this small town for a couple of hours as though stuck in a time warp from the 1800s.

Arriving into Cuenca mid-afternoon the first priority was arranging some accommodation and I was more than happy to bag a double bed at the first choice Hostal El Monasterio (Calle Padre Aguirre and Calle Sucre), located on the 6th floor of a block of apartments and doctors offices a street away from the Cathedral of Immaculate Conception, the blue domed roof that symbolizes colonial Cuenca peering through the bedroom curtains for all to see. First impressions of Cuenca were very positive, just from the views of the hostel room; panoramic views could be had across the city, all for only $7.50 a night per person.

With only a couple of daylight hours left and the weather looking a little anonymous it was decided best not to venture too far away from the accommodation in an unknown city, so my girlfriend and I took in a scenic walk along the river Tomebamba. The first thing noticed, making our way along the narrow cobbled streets was the cities weird fascination and addiction it seemed to doctors. Cuenca must be one sick city as virtually every building contains at least one residing doctor. If not they at least hold the record for most educated inhabitants per square kilometre.

The walk along River Tomebamba wasn't as scenic as hoped, unless you find the thought of gazing into brown polluted water and trying to count the number of plastic bottles floating past appealing. With the weather deteriorating there was no choice but to run for cover into both the CIDAP Museo de Artes Populares (Mon-Fri 9.30am-1pm and 2.30pm-6pm, Sat 10am-1pm, free entry), holding a small collection of modern art for sale and Centro Faunistico Amaru (Tues-Sun 9am-1pm and 2.30-6pm, $2 entry), housing a selection of reptiles, insects, arachnids, and amphibians. Not holding the attention for more than forty-five minutes, even with a guided tour from an acne faced teenager, who certainly impressed with his intense knowledge of animals, said through chattering, nervous lips. I got the impression we were breaking his Gringo guiding virginity so to put him at ease, even if speaking a whole new Spanish vocabulary, I made sure I nodded and smiled in all the right places, something I have become a professional at.

After seeing a horny male tortoise trying to rape, or mate, depending on how you interpreted the situation, a female member of his species and laughing like a little kid at the strange faces he was pulling, and also a fish that uses its fins like feet and who can survive outside of water for up to three days, it was time to beat a hasty retreat back to the hostel. Even with satellite television and a host of channels in nothing but American, boredom soon set in and a quick trip was made to try some of the nationally famous ice-cream parlours, something I am sure the ice-cream capital of Ecuador, Salcedo would not be happy to hear. After eating at Heladeria Holodesa (Calle Benigno Malo 9-55), seen as the cream of Cuenca's ice-cream eateries and taking in the luminous lighting of the cities churches, such as Iglesia San Francisco and Iglesia Santo Domingo (strangely not the Cathedral of Immaculate Conception though), it was time to return to the hostel for a good nights sleep and to prepare for a full days viewing of historic colonial Cuenca tomorrow. It's amazing how sitting on a bus for the majority of the day can tire you out.Close

Whenever you see a Loja Internacional bus go past they all seem to have a phrase written in Spanish on the back saying something along the lines of 'you haven't visited Ecuador until you've visited Loja'. After seeing this shortly after arriving in Ecuador I…Read More

Whenever you see a Loja Internacional bus go past they all seem to have a phrase written in Spanish on the back saying something along the lines of 'you haven't visited Ecuador until you've visited Loja'. After seeing this shortly after arriving in Ecuador I started to conjure up blissful images of how the town would look, like some kind of lost tropical paradise. Upon arriving and making my way to the designated hostel, I was hugely disappointed with what I saw; the city looks very similar to more or less every other town up and down the Ecuadorian Sierra I have visited. Loja's only saving grace seems to be the huge investment the local government has put into the local parks, for which numerous international awards have been won, which certainly help to give the town a clean, fresh feel.

After checking into the hostel, Hostal Londres (Calle Sucre 07-51, Tel: 07/561936), which seemed to double as local hospital lodgings with doctors offices in the centre, it was time to experience what the town had to offer, as with only a day here and with the town boasting so much to offer a perspective tourist, an action packed day was expected. The first port of call was something I had been excited about for a number of days, a trip to Loja Zoo, where a giraffe was seemingly the star attraction. I was a little sceptical at whether or not the zoo, or many other places for that fact would be open, due to the public holiday that was rudely taking place, but I really had very little to worry about. Loja seemed to be heaving with business and people.

A short taxi ride later (costing $2) and paying the ridiculously cheap admittance price of $0.25, my girlfriend and I were left to our own devices in the pleasures of animal viewing. As to be expected the zoo was nothing in comparison to those in Western civilisations, containing fewer than twenty different species, but was well worth an overcast morning. Highlights here included having monkey faeces thrown at me by the cheeky devils themselves, having my hand snapped inside an ostrich's mouth (their reflexes were slightly quicker than I was expecting) and stroking the lone giraffe who seemed to be lacking a soul mate, wanting a little company.

Although enjoying zoo environments, it does disturb me how badly and poorly managed some of the third world zoos can be, and I have a few concerns about Loja Zoo, similarly to those with another zoo in Baños. I would much rather pay a higher admittance price in order for more attendants to watch over the visitors. During my time there, two groups of families threw bunches of bananas to the parading monkeys, while children old enough to know better banged on monkeys cages for angry reactions. Even the lonesome giraffe could not escape such brutality, getting hit in the face with leaves and sticks after failing to be force fed by these evil adolescents. They say ignorance is bliss, but I have a tendency to disagree in this situation and for my girlfriends sake I had to hold back from wading into these people with my limited Spanish skills to tell them how insensitive and cruel they were being, especially when big signs throughout the zoo stated that such behaviour was prohibited.

After walking away from possible confrontations and returning to Parque Central to eat a now customary Mexican meal, at the highly recommended A Lo Mero Mero (Calle Sucre and Calle Colon), it was time to return back to the tourist trail and taking in the rest of the sights that the town has to offer, mainly revolving around the colonial churches of Iglesia San Francisco, Loja Cathedral, and Iglesia San Sebastian. Iglesia San Sebastian was by far the most impressive, painted in a warm pastel yellow and overlooking Plaza de Independencia with its giant clock tower, built to commemorate the date of November 18th, 1820 when the town came together in this exact spot to publicly declare its independence form the Spanish crown. Brave souls.

Apart from numerous churches the town also holds a couple of other gems well worth a visit, including La Puerta de Ciudad, a mock gatehouse, complete with portcullis to mark the old entrance gate to the city, and Calle Lourdes, what most inhabitants see as the gem of their towns thoroughfares, painted in a variety of cool shades, that help brighten up the street from the influx of polluting cars that pass down the cobbled street.

You would have thought with this list of places visited, an afternoon full of fast walking would be needed to see everything. If only this was the case. To be truthfully honest, visiting everything that the town centre had to offer took little over an hour, leaving plenty of time for Internet usage and an afternoon nap. I am certainly happy that it was decided to spend only one day here, as thumbs would have been a twiddling otherwise.

With a much anticipated departure to Cuenca the following morning, surely the highlight of any trip to the south there was no enthusiasm for staying out late, and as soon as darkness drew near my girlfriend and I were in bed ready for the next days travelling. Before retiring for the night I noticed the rather amusing positioning that the local Alcoholics Anonymous Organisation had chosen for their Loja offices, above one of the towns most thriving nightspots, 'The Beer Factory'. Not the best pieces of judgement I have ever seen.

My biggest disappointment while in Loja was the inability to find any restaurant serving one of the local delicacies of the area, either horse, cat, and dog meat. Venturing down every backstreet I came across proved a fruitless expedition and after an hour of searching, I decided to call off the hunt, settling instead for a less exotic meal of pizza and garlic bread. I do enjoy trying local delicacies such as these and coming from a part of the world where such meat is frowned upon, I think I will have to wait a good few years until a voyage to Asia is embarked upon before getting the chance to try them again. Close

Within the village of Vilcabamba, apart from the tiny zoo (Centro Recreacional Yamburara, daily 8am-5pm, $0.50), there is little to keep you occupied for more than an afternoon, unless you have some sort of strange addiction to cheap massages, found all over the village for…Read More

Within the village of Vilcabamba, apart from the tiny zoo (Centro Recreacional Yamburara, daily 8am-5pm, $0.50), there is little to keep you occupied for more than an afternoon, unless you have some sort of strange addiction to cheap massages, found all over the village for no more than $8 an hour. Even the food, which seems to be always of a high quality, and which was perfect for my vegetarian loving girlfriend where healthy, home-grown recipes are found in all restaurants. Today saw an activity participated in, that many people come to the area for (not including the relaxed atmosphere, hallucinogenic cactus powder and the gateway to Peru), the harsh activity of hiking.

Today was going to be the first I hoped of many hiking trips, with a trip to the nearby Cerro Mandango, the face like rock that looms over the south western side of Vilcabamba. From the leaflet received at the tourist information office (Parque Central, daily except Tuesday and Friday 8am-Noon and 2pm-6pm), this seemed to be one of the easiest and most frequented hikes around Vilcabamba and indeed the first part of the route was very easy to follow, passing the entrance and paying the $1.50, which granted you access to the main hiking trail plus a bottle of water and a packet of brown sugar, which I’m sure would provide useful nutrition if you somehow managed to get lost. I wasn't quite happy that the attendant asked a number of questions regarding the amount of money we were carrying, I presume due to some robberies on the trail in the near past, but luckily no such thugs frequented the paths during my visit.

After an hours worth of walking and struggling up the steep rocky paths, passing ridiculous numbers of colourful butterflies, feeding on the flowers of the highland shrubs, the first summit was made, a hill a few hundred metres short of Cerro Mandango, which overlooks the village. A cross marks the highest point, protecting the town from bad and evil spirits. From my pin-point observations it seemed the cross performed little than the noble act of allowing hikers to scribble their names into the fading and peeling white paint.

Upon reaching the top a fellow hiker who had been attempting to carry on to the top of Cerro Mandango, accosted my girlfriend and I, and explained she had tried to no avail to reach the top. Hearing this news made us feel a bit sceptical about carrying on, especially with the added threats of mugging, so it was decided that the accomplishment made so far was a good starter and would allow another hike in the afternoon to the Rumi Wilco Nature Reserve, a place that boasts of a birders paradise, with over 150 different species accounted for here. Not being a 'birder' myself, even I was excited at such a statement.

Before the descent could be made a Scottish couple joined us at the top, who judging by their high quality maps and GPS guiding system were true professional hikers. They didn't seem shy of this fact when our new friend told them of her hardships, scoffing at her attempts before carrying on without a care in the world, noses stuck obnoxiously towards the overhead sun, striding quickly towards the upper reaches of Cerro Mandango. Looking back at Cerro Mandango on our descent back to Vilcabamba, the Scottish hikers could be seen happily prancing around the summit, something I have to say I was a tad jealous of.

After eating dinner to recharge low batteries, and listening to a guy on the adjacent table boasting to some study abroad students of his amazing life as an Antarctic researcher, it was time to start the second hike of the day, to the nearby private nature reserve of Rumi Wilco, passing the River Chamba, where half the female population of Vilcabamba had come to wash their weeks laundry, their naked children playing joyfully in the water.

Picking up a guide at the entrance of Rumi Wilco Nature Reserve, which highlighted the different trails on offer, I was determined to reach the highest, furthest point away from where I was standing, which I hoped would not only give great views over the surrounding valley but would also make up for not reaching the summit of Cerro Mandango earlier that day. Sadly this was a huge mistake as little did my girlfriend and I know that most of the trails hadn't seen a slice of maintenance in an ice age, especially the one chosen to venture upon. I'm sorry but walking up a near vertical rock face, fighting against the sharp blades of grass, which after half an hours worth of walking had cut my legs to ribbons, isn't my idea of a fun afternoon. Flowers depositing their clingy, sticky seeds to every part of my body didn't help matters and before long I looked like a homeless beggar.

Although great views were had over the valley and of Vilcabamba, all but two of the 150+ bird species said to frequent here failed to show themselves. All the wildlife seen was a couple of grasshoppers and a slug infestation, that made their slippery trails across the hiking trails and which took a great deal of concentration to avoid from squashing to the bottom of your shoes. Not the nicest sensation in the world. After a couple of hours hiking across the valley and with legs looking like someone had taking a razor to them, I admitted defeat for the second time that day and headed back towards the entrance. What a failure!

Even though targets for the day were not achieved, the day ended in success with a meal at El Jardin (The Hidden Garden, Calle Sucre), one of the best Mexican Restaurants I have eaten at during my time in South America. The food soothed my aching limbs ready for an even more ambitious days worth of hiking the following day, a good six hour round journey into Podocarpus National Park to a set of waterfalls quoted as being one best waterfall walks within the Vilcabamba vicinity. Treating myself to a cone of coconut ice-cream before returning back to Hostal Valle Sagrado, it was amazing the difference a single night can make, now being hard pressed to see a single person out on the main plaza, apart from a rather annoying group of loud, screaming American exchange students who would have been more at home on some Hawaiian Island, their upper bodies covered in freshly picked flowers. I suppose they just add to the strange mix of people found here.Close

A trip to the southern Ecuadorian Sierra for many should be one filled with excitement and anticipation. After just completing trips to both the Amazon and Galapagos Islands, adventures that surpassed my wildest dreams, I had a feeling that the south wouldn't be in the…Read More

A trip to the southern Ecuadorian Sierra for many should be one filled with excitement and anticipation. After just completing trips to both the Amazon and Galapagos Islands, adventures that surpassed my wildest dreams, I had a feeling that the south wouldn't be in the same league. I couldn't have been more wrong. Out of the three trips, the south I have to say was the one filled with most beauty and variety.

To reach the first port of call, Vilcabamaba, a nice 15 hour bus journey was needed from the capital of Quito, through Volcano Alley where Cotopaxi, the Illiniza's, Tungurahua, and Chimborazo stood tall and proud, dominating the skyline of the crisp evening air. The sun was already rising by the time Loja was finally reached, where another bus was needed to Vilcabamba. After previous night bus rides, this one, a little to my disappointment, was uneventful, and I managed to somehow sleep through the twists and turns of the mountain roads, where one wrong turn or lack of brakes a screeching would mean a fall of 300m down the sheer rock face to an almost certain death. The only highlight worth mentioning was awakening at Cuenca's bus terminal to see two drunks dressed just like Laurel and Hardy taking a hard earned beating from the patrolling security guards. I don't know if it was solely for the way they were dressed, but they looked like innocent drunks to me!

The first thing I noticed about the south was the sheer beauty of the landscape, the valleys and mountains covered in greenery and waterfalls, lasting all the way to Vilcabamba, a dormant, quiet little town an hour drive south from Loja, which has become something of a tourist magnet in the past few decades after the town was coined 'The Valley of Longevity' after a journal article stated numerous people were alive and kicking at the ripe old age of 135 years. Personally I think these people had been sniffing a little too much of the white stuff. Not the cocaine variety, but of the less potent cactus powder that has, so I have been told, vivid hallucinogenic properties that can be found in abundance here. Strangely, during my time in Vilcabamba I failed to see anyone even approaching this age.

Vilcabamba, due to its location sees good hot sunny weather throughout the year, and the day of my arrival was no different, the short walk from the bus terminal to the hostel leaving me red faced and my back drenched in stinky sweat. It's moments like this when travelling with a loved one, you know the bond between you is strong, especially having been travelling non-stop for close to two-thirds of the last day!

The chosen hostel, Hostal Valle Sagrado (Calle Sucre, Parque Central, Tel: 07/580686), which happened to be the oldest accommodation in town. If I hadn't already known this fact before arriving, looking at the rooms with their worn characteristics would have certainly led to this conclusion. Made from adobe brick and smelling like damp had reached its last stages of development would make many people look elsewhere. Sadly I felt obliged to take the room as in place of the owners who were out buying a horse, a man in his late seventies, tossing a machete from hand to hand and looking a little deranged was put in charge, and someone I didn't have the ability to reject. I was later to realise that this wasn't the wisest of decisions as for the first time in my life I had an allergy attacked my immune system, leading to fits of sneezing every night making the necessity of sleep hard to come by.

The unfinished walls meant big gaps between the bedroom, my private bathroom, and the shared bathroom, allowing all sorts of grotesque and disgusting toilet noises to be heard throughout my stay here. Luckily on my arrival after such a long journey, these noises were kept to a minimum, and I was able to catch up on some much needed beauty sleep, awakening five hours later to a caldron of intense heat. Not use to such heat where I have the joys of working on the slopes of Cotopaxi Volcano, I decided to bring my pale legs out for a rare public appearance, walking the thirty minutes to the other side of town where Zoologico Vilcabamba (Centro Recreacional Yamburara, daily 8am-5pm) can be found. As entrance only costs $0.50 I decided it would have been rude not to enter I couldn't really complain with the animals that $0.50 bought, strolling around for a relaxing hour. Highlights included a couple of very bored looking pumas in very cramped conditions and some of the most evil looking birds I have seen in my life.

To quench my thirst and prepare for the sapping walk back to town, I decided to gulp down a couple of cool glasses of sugar cane juice. The dirty colour of this fine liquid doesn't really fill you with confidence, but you should never judge solely on looks, otherwise I’d be fighting a losing battle! It was on this slow paced stumble back to Hostal Valle Sagrado it came to my attention just how relaxed Vilcabamba is, with people lying in hammocks, munching on fresh fruit plucked from the trees. It's a scene more common of the coast than in valleys bordering Peru.

My first evening in Vilcabamba was spent eating cheap but excellent quality Mexican food with my girlfriend in La Terraza (Calle Diego Vaca de la Vega and Bolivar) and participating in the joyful activity of people watching, which was perfect as Saturday night is definitely party time in the main plaza, with groups of youths coming from the surrounding towns and villages to drink copious amounts of high percentage alcohol.

Instead though of all joining together to form one big party, the new arrivals seemed happy to enough to jump in the back of the twenty or so pick-ups parked around the main square, and with each trucks music pumped up, they had their own individual parties, grooving away in the back to songs such as 'Hit Me Baby One More Time'. Not by the legendary baldie Britney Spears, but by the equally impressive Travis. It seems indie rock is the choice of music here over the normal favourite of salsa. After reminiscing over songs I hadn't heard for a good year I decided it was time to call it a night as there was a hard days hiking to be had the following day to Cerro Mandango, the rock formation looming over the village that if looking in the right direction looks strangely like a face. Many researchers believe this face was the main reason the Incan's chose Vilcabamba as a spiritual home.Close

The initial plan for today was a short one hour bus journey north to Loja. At the last minute though, upon analysing what Vilcabamba and Loja had to offer, it was decided another day in Vilcabamba was the better option. I wasn't disappointed with the…Read More

The initial plan for today was a short one hour bus journey north to Loja. At the last minute though, upon analysing what Vilcabamba and Loja had to offer, it was decided another day in Vilcabamba was the better option. I wasn't disappointed with the decision. With the extra day in Vilcabamba, a hike into Podocarpus National Park was the day's priority, followed hopefully, time permitting by a well deserved $8 one hour massage. Considering prices for similar services in other Gringo hangouts like Quito and Baños, which average $25, you can't really complain.

After an early filling fruit breakfast from the ever reliable Natural Yogurt Vilcabamba (Calle Bolivar, Parque Central) it soon became clear in the baking early morning heat the six hours allotted time for this hike looked to be a slight underestimate. As other tourists rode past on the back of horses, hair flowing in the wind, it did cross my mind that sometimes splashing out a little extra isn't always a bad idea, but after my last try at horse riding in the Andean hills of Chugchilan, it will still be a while before I get back in the saddle.

From the map retrieved from the tourist information centre (daily except Tuesday and Friday, 8am-Noon and 2pm-6pm, Tel: 07/580890) the walk to the waterfalls was made to look easy, but from the get-go, the map and accompanying directions proved to be highly inadequate and passing isolated homesteads and quaint, picturesque churches I was always wondering if the right path was being taken. Two hours after setting off, and seeing Vilcabamba disappear into the distance a small gate marked the entrance to Podocarpus National Park, famous for an endemic species of conifer found nowhere else in the world. The valley and gorge views for me were a far more impressive sight than any unassuming tree could be. With the entrance to Podocarpus no longer in sight it was hard to go more than a few metres without hearing the rushing, splashing sound of waterfalls in every direction. Due to its isolation, this entrance to Podocarpus has no guard station, which allows a cool $10 to be saved on the entrance fee, coincidentally enough for more than hours massage.

After almost four hours of walking, and with the waterfall in shouting distance, the white froth evident from the adjacent hill, a big stumbling block was hit. The last instruction given in order to view the waterfall was 'walk into the homestead and through the neighbouring corn field, which leads down a steep embankment to the falls'. Upon reaching the homestead I was a little dismayed to see that the entrance gate, of which passing through was a necessity, was bolted shut and a huge sign put up reading 'Waterfalls, Do Not Enter, Private Property'. Although crawling underneath the gate was a distinct possibility and the farm looked completely deserted I wasn't prepared to take my chances, especially after incidents with dogs in isolated places before in my short existence. I have also seen what they do to trespassers in movies and cartoons, which isn't the hero, adrenaline filled end to my life that I always imagine and I certainly wasn't prepared to play the part of Burt Reynolds in 'Deliverance'.

Efforts were made to find alternative routes to the waterfalls, but with no luck and to make matters worse, upon trying to get back onto the main hiking trail over a small fast flowing stream, slippery rocks provided the inevitable mishap, falling straight in and saturating my legs and trainers. If this wasn't frustrating enough, a nearby bull came over to see what all the noise was about. In the confusion of whether this move was an aggressive act or not, I picked up the pace, and upon looking back to see if the bull was catching up, I had one of my 'walking inability' moments, somehow managing to trip, twist my ankle and then fall down a small embankment placing my knee straight into a fresh pile of cow turd.

By the time my girlfriend and I arrived back into Vilcabamba, making the return leg in half the time of the outward journey, the thoughts of taking a quick shower and heading for a massage had gone straight out of the window, and still with a whiff of cow poo floating around I fell straight asleep upon returning to Hostal Valle Sagrado and by the time I awoke it was already dark.

As this was my last night in Vilcabamba I ventured to the main plaza with my girlfriend and to my favourite restaurant La Terraza (Calle Diego Vaca de la Vega and Calle Bolivar, Parque Central), and participated in the eating of Mexican food in large quantities, which was the third time in three days I had enjoyed a Mexican feast. To cap the night off, a spot of people watching was had over a couple of large bottles of Pilsner beer, and the eclectic mix of Gringo's here was more than evident to see.

Favourites included a woman on the main square howling on all fours, creepy guys hitting on girls young enough to put them behind bars for life, and a couple of American guys dressed in velvet suits from Victorian times, complete with matching top hats and probably part of a strange cult, the same kind you read about in newspapers. Once the last drop of beer was finished there was nothing left to do but return to the hostel in order to be up bright and early for the trip to Loja the next morning.Close