The Quilotoa Loop was the best thing that we did during our time in Ecuador. It's a circular route which is nestled in the Andes, with lots of tiny villages dotted along the way.
We started our journey from a large market town called Latacunga, and caught one of the local buses to the small village of Zumbahoa. The bus spat us out by the titchy main square early afternoon, and the locals looked at us with our large backpacks with bemused looks. We made our way to the only hostel in town, and a small Ecuadorian lady with a sweet face and long, traditional plaits ran over to greet us. We were surprised when she opened the door to the hostel without unlocking it, and ushered us through the uninhabited building to our room. Once agreeing a price she showed us to one of the two restaurants in town, which also happened to belong to her Uncle, for a filling "almuerzo" lunch.
We then set out for a walk up the side of one of the hills and through the patchwork of farm fields, colours running from lime through to jade green. We also watched the locals working, who gave us shy smiles and tentative "holas". As we walked we were able to get a better view of the surrounding countryside, and appreciate the pretty scenery. We were unable to get all the way to the top of the hill we were aiming for, and so returned to town.
We started our journey from a large market town called Latacunga, and caught one of the local buses to the small village of Zumbahoa. The bus spat us out by the titchy main square early afternoon, and the locals looked at us with our large backpacks with bemused looks. We made our way to the only hostel in town, and a small Ecuadorian lady with a sweet face and long, traditional plaits ran over to greet us. We were surprised when she opened the door to the hostel without unlocking it, and ushered us through the uninhabited building to our room. Once agreeing a price she showed us to one of the two restaurants in town, which also happened to belong to her Uncle, for a filling "almuerzo" lunch.
We then set out for a walk up the side of one of the hills and through the patchwork of farm fields, colours running from lime through to jade green. We also watched the locals working, who gave us shy smiles and tentative "holas". As we walked we were able to get a better view of the surrounding countryside, and appreciate the pretty scenery. We were unable to get all the way to the top of the hill we were aiming for, and so returned to town.
As we'd only been walking for an hour and a half, we started on another path in the opposite direction. This ran parallel to the road we were to take out of the town the day after, but rose higher, affording an even better overview of the area. We found many loud, barking farm dogs, trying to defend their property from the strange gringos traipsing through their fields. For the first time we were also able to see the deep gorge running through the valley.
We returned a different way, walking through more farmlands and past even more crazed dogs. Along the way we also managed to befriend several children, one of which followed us all the way into town. At one point there was a large group of local people, all just sitting outside of a building. As walked by we said our usual, "Hola, buenas tardes", to which w
e got several cheerful replies. However, as soon as we had left their sight the whole group just burst into spontaneous laughter, which in turn made James and I really chuckle. We didn't realise that we were so amusing!
Upon returning to the hostel we realised that there really wasn't much else to do in this sleepy little village other than relax, read a book and enjoy the scenery. After dinner we perched ourselves on the hostel balcony with a couple of beers and a blanket over our legs, people watching. The temperature very quickly plummeted as soon as the sun had gone in, and any piece of exposed skin soon became invaded by the icy cold. The already incredibly tranquil village grew even quieter after 8pm, and by 9pm we were starting to see the lights that studded the town wink off as the locals curled up in bed. By 9:30 we'd stood as much of the cold as we could and went into our empty hostel. There was no one downstairs to lock up, so we went around the place doing this ourselves. It was a bit creepy and definitely unnerving to have the drafty building to ourselves, like something out of a horro
r film. Tucked up in bed, with about six woollen blankets pulled up around us, we soon defrosted and fell to sleep.
The next day we grabbed a greasy breakfast before flagging down one of the locals who had a utility truck. We gave him some money to take us to the Quilotoa crater lake, just a short and bumpy ride away. We jolted up and down in the open air, our bums lifting clean off of the hard plank of wood which served as a seat in the back of the truck. As the road unraveled in front of us we saw a change in the scenery. The ground in the area was incredibly sandy, and as such had been sliced vertically by the river, which now ran through the bottom of the dramatic valley.
When we got to the crater a lovely lady who owned a hostel there offered to look after our bags for a few hours so that we could explore. Once we got to the mirador it was a real sharp-intake-of-breath-WOW moment. This was even more resplendent than the other crater lakes we'd seen on our travels. It seemed to be jewel encrusted, with the water glistening aquamarine and sapphire in the sunlight, which was set off perfectly by the vibrant emerald of the foliage growing around the inside of the crater.
We took a trot down to the bottom of the crater, which was not an easy task. I managed to slip on my bottom again, and James had more than a couple of close calls. We passed a large party of teenagers all struggling, puffing and panting their way back up to the top - I certainly wasn't looking forward to the return leg. We also crossed paths with a couple who had hired some mules to carry them up, and one of the poor animals bucked under the weight of the rather chunky male on it's back. When we reached the bottom we realised that the crater was best appreciated from the top, but still, it was very pleasant just the two of us sitting there next to the still waters of the lake.
Luckily the clouds had started to roll in on our ascent, which meant that it wasn't
as much sweaty work as expected. We managed to make it back up in 45minutes, which is about how long it took us on the way down. We ate our packed lunch sitting on the lip of the crater, not tiring of the pretty view below us. By the time we had finished eating, cloud was flooding into the crater completely veiling the beauty below. We had timed our visit perfectly.
We caught the local bus out of there early afternoon, and made our next stop at the village of Chugchilán. The road between the two villages was treacherous, and the bus needed to stop on more than one occasion because of landslides. I tried not to notice how close we teetered on the edge and
also tried to forget how badly the drivers are in Ecuador.
Thankfully, we made it to Chugchilán where there was a charming hostel called Mama Hilda's. The lady herself greeted us warmly with handshakes and warm smiles. We managed to barter a good price for a beautiful private room that had a balcony overlooking the valley, which also included both dinner and breakfast.
We spent the afternoon chilling on the balcony and reading, something that we were getting quite used to by now. Dinner was a commu
nal affair, and conversation flowed easily between us, another English girl called Barbara and an American family. The temperature in the toasty dining area was a stark contrast to the one outside and in our rooms, so we stopped in there for a while longer, clutching a mugs of hot chocolate and getting to know Barbara better. The next day we agreed to take her when we went out for our trek in the local area and promised that we wouldn't walk too quickly!
The three of us set out relatively early in the morning and were joined by an American guy called Benny who'd just checked in. The first part of the walk was the toughest, as it was quite steep. Barbara and Benny struggled a little to begin with, particularly as neither of them were used to the altitude that we were now accustomed to. The initial trek was worth it though, and the panoramic view was the recompense for the struggle up the hill.
We continued along the path, heading towards a cheese factory that was marked on a sketchy map given to us by Mama Hilda. We caught up with the American family who had set out an
hour earlier than us that morning, and we ambled along with them. We passed through another speck of a village, seemingly filled with lots of young children and pigs. The children met us with a lot of curiosity and giggles, which was incredibly becoming.
We continued along the path until we reached some locals who said that we'd overshot the cheese factory and taken a bit of a wrong turn. We headed back in that direction, and the American family left us to it. Unfortunately we found the factory, but rather than it being the hive of activity that we were hoping for, the gates were locked with not a glimpse of a local in sight. We decided that here would be as good a place as any to have a spot of lunch, and between the four of us we managed to cobble together a strange concoction of bread, cheese, tuna and chocolate. Fuelled-up, we began our descent back to our beloved Mama Hilda.
Once more we caught up with the American family, who were strolling leisurely back. James and I left Barbara and Benny in their capable hands, whilst we picked up the pace and strode back to the hostel at our own pace. We stopped off for a little bit of delicious soup at the Cloud Forest Hostel, which was just next to Mama Hilda's, and our bellies rumbled appreciatively.
That evening we were joined for dinner by an lovely Australian couple from Melbourne (seriously, are there any Aussies left in that city?) who were on their honeymo
on. They'd decided to do the loop as part of a whirlwind tour of South America.
Bright and early next morning we were up and awaiting our next mode of transportation, the local milk truck. For a dollar each we hopped into the back of the truck alongside half a dozen other locals and the "milkboy". This was such an enlightening experience for us. We were jostled by both the locals and the truck, and frequently the truck would stop for people, usually children, standing patiently by the side of the road for this beat up vehicle to appear. There would be one of three types of pedestrian, and would either want:
We returned a different way, walking through more farmlands and past even more crazed dogs. Along the way we also managed to befriend several children, one of which followed us all the way into town. At one point there was a large group of local people, all just sitting outside of a building. As walked by we said our usual, "Hola, buenas tardes", to which w
e got several cheerful replies. However, as soon as we had left their sight the whole group just burst into spontaneous laughter, which in turn made James and I really chuckle. We didn't realise that we were so amusing!Upon returning to the hostel we realised that there really wasn't much else to do in this sleepy little village other than relax, read a book and enjoy the scenery. After dinner we perched ourselves on the hostel balcony with a couple of beers and a blanket over our legs, people watching. The temperature very quickly plummeted as soon as the sun had gone in, and any piece of exposed skin soon became invaded by the icy cold. The already incredibly tranquil village grew even quieter after 8pm, and by 9pm we were starting to see the lights that studded the town wink off as the locals curled up in bed. By 9:30 we'd stood as much of the cold as we could and went into our empty hostel. There was no one downstairs to lock up, so we went around the place doing this ourselves. It was a bit creepy and definitely unnerving to have the drafty building to ourselves, like something out of a horro
r film. Tucked up in bed, with about six woollen blankets pulled up around us, we soon defrosted and fell to sleep.The next day we grabbed a greasy breakfast before flagging down one of the locals who had a utility truck. We gave him some money to take us to the Quilotoa crater lake, just a short and bumpy ride away. We jolted up and down in the open air, our bums lifting clean off of the hard plank of wood which served as a seat in the back of the truck. As the road unraveled in front of us we saw a change in the scenery. The ground in the area was incredibly sandy, and as such had been sliced vertically by the river, which now ran through the bottom of the dramatic valley.
When we got to the crater a lovely lady who owned a hostel there offered to look after our bags for a few hours so that we could explore. Once we got to the mirador it was a real sharp-intake-of-breath-WOW moment. This was even more resplendent than the other crater lakes we'd seen on our travels. It seemed to be jewel encrusted, with the water glistening aquamarine and sapphire in the sunlight, which was set off perfectly by the vibrant emerald of the foliage growing around the inside of the crater.We took a trot down to the bottom of the crater, which was not an easy task. I managed to slip on my bottom again, and James had more than a couple of close calls. We passed a large party of teenagers all struggling, puffing and panting their way back up to the top - I certainly wasn't looking forward to the return leg. We also crossed paths with a couple who had hired some mules to carry them up, and one of the poor animals bucked under the weight of the rather chunky male on it's back. When we reached the bottom we realised that the crater was best appreciated from the top, but still, it was very pleasant just the two of us sitting there next to the still waters of the lake.
Luckily the clouds had started to roll in on our ascent, which meant that it wasn't
as much sweaty work as expected. We managed to make it back up in 45minutes, which is about how long it took us on the way down. We ate our packed lunch sitting on the lip of the crater, not tiring of the pretty view below us. By the time we had finished eating, cloud was flooding into the crater completely veiling the beauty below. We had timed our visit perfectly.We caught the local bus out of there early afternoon, and made our next stop at the village of Chugchilán. The road between the two villages was treacherous, and the bus needed to stop on more than one occasion because of landslides. I tried not to notice how close we teetered on the edge and
also tried to forget how badly the drivers are in Ecuador.Thankfully, we made it to Chugchilán where there was a charming hostel called Mama Hilda's. The lady herself greeted us warmly with handshakes and warm smiles. We managed to barter a good price for a beautiful private room that had a balcony overlooking the valley, which also included both dinner and breakfast.
We spent the afternoon chilling on the balcony and reading, something that we were getting quite used to by now. Dinner was a commu
nal affair, and conversation flowed easily between us, another English girl called Barbara and an American family. The temperature in the toasty dining area was a stark contrast to the one outside and in our rooms, so we stopped in there for a while longer, clutching a mugs of hot chocolate and getting to know Barbara better. The next day we agreed to take her when we went out for our trek in the local area and promised that we wouldn't walk too quickly!The three of us set out relatively early in the morning and were joined by an American guy called Benny who'd just checked in. The first part of the walk was the toughest, as it was quite steep. Barbara and Benny struggled a little to begin with, particularly as neither of them were used to the altitude that we were now accustomed to. The initial trek was worth it though, and the panoramic view was the recompense for the struggle up the hill.
We continued along the path, heading towards a cheese factory that was marked on a sketchy map given to us by Mama Hilda. We caught up with the American family who had set out an
hour earlier than us that morning, and we ambled along with them. We passed through another speck of a village, seemingly filled with lots of young children and pigs. The children met us with a lot of curiosity and giggles, which was incredibly becoming.We continued along the path until we reached some locals who said that we'd overshot the cheese factory and taken a bit of a wrong turn. We headed back in that direction, and the American family left us to it. Unfortunately we found the factory, but rather than it being the hive of activity that we were hoping for, the gates were locked with not a glimpse of a local in sight. We decided that here would be as good a place as any to have a spot of lunch, and between the four of us we managed to cobble together a strange concoction of bread, cheese, tuna and chocolate. Fuelled-up, we began our descent back to our beloved Mama Hilda.
Once more we caught up with the American family, who were strolling leisurely back. James and I left Barbara and Benny in their capable hands, whilst we picked up the pace and strode back to the hostel at our own pace. We stopped off for a little bit of delicious soup at the Cloud Forest Hostel, which was just next to Mama Hilda's, and our bellies rumbled appreciatively.
That evening we were joined for dinner by an lovely Australian couple from Melbourne (seriously, are there any Aussies left in that city?) who were on their honeymo
on. They'd decided to do the loop as part of a whirlwind tour of South America.Bright and early next morning we were up and awaiting our next mode of transportation, the local milk truck. For a dollar each we hopped into the back of the truck alongside half a dozen other locals and the "milkboy". This was such an enlightening experience for us. We were jostled by both the locals and the truck, and frequently the truck would stop for people, usually children, standing patiently by the side of the road for this beat up vehicle to appear. There would be one of three types of pedestrian, and would either want:
1) to buy milk
The first of these would be holding an empty vessel of some description, and would speak to the driver about how much they wanted and pay him. Then the milkboy would open up a huge barrel of milk that had been wildly sloshing around, and measure out the required amount, passing this back over to the customer with a huge grin.
The second type would also be standing with a container, but this time it would be full of the white liquid. This would be tipped into the bright blue barrel to top up the stock on board. The driver would pay them the agreed amount, and the milkboy would return the empty with a huge grin.
Lastly, if they wanted a lift, it would involve us shoe-horning on more and more people, along with any bags/crates/boxes they happened to be carrying. Then, fully sardined-up, the truck would carry on it's merry way. How we managed to keep everyone on board is beyond me.
We arrived at our destination of Sigchos, but only stayed here for an hour and a half before catching the bus back to Latacunga. We'd had such a fantastic time on "The Loop" and were so glad that we'd decided to do that than spend more time in the jungle. It is a trip that we have strongly suggested to every other traveler we have met who has Ecuador on their agenda.
Only spending one night in Latacunga, the next day we caught the bus to the county's capital, Quito.
2) to sell milk
3) to be picked up by the truck as another passenger
The first of these would be holding an empty vessel of some description, and would speak to the driver about how much they wanted and pay him. Then the milkboy would open up a huge barrel of milk that had been wildly sloshing around, and measure out the required amount, passing this back over to the customer with a huge grin.The second type would also be standing with a container, but this time it would be full of the white liquid. This would be tipped into the bright blue barrel to top up the stock on board. The driver would pay them the agreed amount, and the milkboy would return the empty with a huge grin.
Lastly, if they wanted a lift, it would involve us shoe-horning on more and more people, along with any bags/crates/boxes they happened to be carrying. Then, fully sardined-up, the truck would carry on it's merry way. How we managed to keep everyone on board is beyond me.
We arrived at our destination of Sigchos, but only stayed here for an hour and a half before catching the bus back to Latacunga. We'd had such a fantastic time on "The Loop" and were so glad that we'd decided to do that than spend more time in the jungle. It is a trip that we have strongly suggested to every other traveler we have met who has Ecuador on their agenda.
Only spending one night in Latacunga, the next day we caught the bus to the county's capital, Quito.
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