The road chose me

After a few days of intermittent rain, I’m happy to see perfect blue skies when I begin moving North from Villa O’Higgins. My fishing gear is all-but useless, so I camp with a hardcore Dutch fisherman, and together we cook a fresh brown trout in the coals of our campfire – possibly the best “camping” meal of the trip.

Looking out over Villa O'Higgins

Lago General Carrera

I meander my way North, camping in road-side pullouts and exploring tiny local villages as I go. Arriving in Chaitén I can’t believe the level of destruction caused by a volcanic eruption three years earlier. Locals explain it wasn’t so much the eruption itself (though that did produce enormous amounts of ash), but more-so the re-direction of the river that washed away half of the town. So much sand and ash washed down that the “beachfront” is now 500 meters back from the original line. Woah.

Country living

Rivers and mountains

I camp within site of the volcano, still spewing smoke, though heavy rain in the morning prevents me from hiking closer. Maybe that’s for the better.

Mountains of the Austral

Attempt at The Southern Cross

For my last night on the Austral I camp at the hot spring of Termas de Amarillo, soaking long into the night and chatting with locals and ex-pats alike.

-Dan

From the minute we drive off the Uyuni Salt Flats we’re on extremely bad gravel roads, sometimes doubting the existence of a road at all. Every few kilometers the surface changes, keeping us on our toes. At various times we encounter deep sand, rock slabs, powder-fine dust, shallow river crossings and the occasional small salt/hard mud flat. It doesn’t take long before Rob is sweating profusely trying to keep the Harley upright and inevitably he drops it in the sand, deep enough to wrench even the Jeep. Even with most of Rob’s gear in the Jeep, the Harley is still too heavy to pick up single-handedly, so Warren and I dash over to lend a hand.

Sand everywhere

We soon develop a rhythm whereby whichever vehicle is closer jumps out to assist Rob as the Harley topples over time and time again in the deep sand, or else gets beached on the home-made skid plate. Following the most obvious track and trusting the occasional sign we miraculously arrive in the little village of San Juan, a great rest stop. Just twenty minutes out of town the Harley repeatedly loses power, to the point it’s unridable. Over the course of an hour and many false starts we diagnose and tighten a loose battery connector, to get the monster roaring to life once again. Since sunset the road has become unbearably cold and windswept and even after I put on all my thermals and 5 layers my extremities are numb, and I have a bad case of windburn on my arms, face and legs.
Likewise for the others.
We head back into San Juan and get a warm hostel for the night, exhausted and excited at the same time.

Rob and the mighty Harley

The morning is crisp and clear and we leave town in a different direction than yesterday, on the advice of locals. The salt flat of Chiguana is a great relief after the horrible roads and we can move along at 60km/h on even the worst parts. After posing for photos with the heavily armed military guys in Chiguana we take their advice and turn South, quickly realizing we’re on a tiny track that is seldom driven. There can be no doubt, this is a desert, complete with sand dunes, crazy rock formations and extremely little vegetation in the baking hot sun.

Crazy rock formations in the desert

Using my map and compass I’m pretty confident I can navigate us around and feel like the 6000ish meter mountains surrounding us correspond with the map nicely. When we arrive at the sizable village of Copacabaña, confidence in my navigation drops, and not for the first time in Bolivia I have absolutely no idea where we are. Incidentally, I’ve still never seen that village on a map and have no idea where it actually is. Again, our faith goes to the locals, and again we drive through, in and around an enormous desert, this one packed with rock towers and bright red dirt, reminding me of the national parks of Utah. With little confidence I conclude we’re driving on roads that are not on any of my maps, and we’re happy to pass a few Landcruisers packed with tourists going the other direction – a sign we are probably (hopefully) on the right track.
Late in the day we arrive at Laguna Hedionda, packed with pink flamingoes, and hope that a few abandoned rock huts will provide enough protection for camping from the frigid wind whipping around us.

Younger white flamingo

The older ones turn pink from eating shells

The temperature plummets overnight and I’m not surprised to find all my water bottles are frozen solid, as is the washer fluid under the hood of the Jeep. Early in the morning Rob and I get separated from Warren and Sara and after waiting almost an hour I drive back the 10km, and start to get a little nervous about gas. After scraping over a rock, Warren has found oil leaking from the transfer case and is rolling around in the dust trying to figure out what’s going on. A driver from one of the tour companies assures us it’s just the breather venting a little oil because of the seriously cold night, and we move on, keeping a close eye on things.

Serious isolation

Our days begin to blur, moving from one flamingo-covered lake to the next, crossing sandy, rocky and then pebble strewn barren deserts, all the while at around 4500m in elevation. Highlights include a stop at the rock tree, the stunning orange & white Laguna Colorada and camping at a hot spring on the side of the road. The nights are now excruciatingly cold and the sun blazes during the day, causing ever increasing sun and windburn. The exhaustion and stress begin to tear at us as we’re all anxious about our quickly depleting drinking water, food and gasoline supplies.

Crazy beautiful mountains

The amigos at the rock tree

Without a doubt this is the kind of adventure I’ve been searching for my entire trip, maybe even my entire life. There is no safety net, no room for error – seriously far off the track, rolling with the punches, thinking on my feet, living it to the fullest.
By far the most full-on, out there adventure of my life.

Three vehciles in the desert

Beautiful sky

On the sixth and final day we’ve all hit our limit, physically and mentally. The last liter of water is shared out between us, and all gas containers have been empty for days. Everybody we ask is certain of the distance we still have remaining, though none of them agree. The fear of running out of gas is too great, so we buy more from a guy on the side of the road. Rob doesn’t have any Bolivian money remaining, so I lend him all I have, closing down my options fast.
Further South at Laguna Verde the wind torments my ragged state of mine and I can only stand outside the Jeep for 10 seconds, long enough for one photo. I become fixated on the enormous Volcán Licancahur (5760m), sitting at the far end of the lake and marking the border with Chile.
Almost there.

Freaky Laguna Colorada

Roads of sand

After a stupid debacle where the trucks are separated from the motorbike, I end up driving back around the entire lake, yelling and screaming to myself about the 35km of gas wasted the whole time.
Eventually we find Rob waiting at the border, and we all manage to grin and laugh when we realize we’ve done it. We’re there.

Amazing views from the hot spring

Laguna Verde, with Volcán Licancahur (5760m) in the background

Almost.

-Dan

(A note to anyone attempting this – From the last gas station in Uyuni to the Chilean border we drove 570km with minimum back-tracking and screwing around. It’s another 45km to the first gas station in Chile. Driving at extremely high elevation and crawling through sand and rock deserts decreased my usual gas milage by 25%-35%)

(This story begins here: The Cordillera Huayhuash Circuit Days 1 & 2)

Day 5 – 500 meter ascent / 400 meter decent / xx km / 5 hrs
Very low cloud & overcast in morning, away at 7am. Cruise up to pass (Portachuelo de Huayhuash, 4750m), snowing at top and quickly very cold. Arrive at hotsprings at 12, light rain. Soak all afternoon, then explore. LOTS of hot water around. Nighttime soak. Into bed very warm.
Short, easy day.

Cloudy start in the morning

The campsite at the Huayhuash hotsprings

The Huayhuash hotsprings

Tons of hot water in valley

Day 6 – 525 meter ascent / 500 meter decent / xx km / 5 hrs
Almost all blue sky at 6am – move! On trail at 7.10am. Slow and steady to Punta Cuyoc (5000m), highest on trail. Feel much better. Pack lighter, moving very well. Only short rests now. View from top amazing, a little cloudy. Cut day short, camp ready to hike to Mirador San Antonio first thing.
Again very short, easy day. I feel good.
Camping alone. Solitude is BIG here.

Extremely close to Cuyoc

Up hight on Punta Cutoc (5000m)

Solitary camping under Cuyoc

The Guanacpatay valley, where I camped

-Dan

I pick up another backpacker and together we move south, through a market in Riobumba for lunch and into the city of Cuenca. I’m normally not much of a city guy but this one is really beautiful – the streets are clean, the people friendly and there is endless old architecture to admire. Unfortunately the day we have for the city is a Sunday so pretty much everything is closed and Jena is disappointed we can’t goto the museum with the small heads. In the evening we both feel ‘normal’ after going to see a movie where I eat way too much popcorn (which is just enough).

The stunning views in Parque Nacional Cajas

In the morning we’re off to Parque Nacional Cajas, an amazing spot on the side of the highway high in the mountains between Cuenca and Guayaquil. We hike for a couple of hours into the amazing wilderness, well above tree line, passing only a few locals moving supplies around on horseback. When the rain sets in we move down to the refuge to cook lunch and chat to the park ranger guys before hiking around Laguna Toreadora, which again is peaceful in a way I can’t adequately explain.

Laguna Toreadora in Parque Nacional Cajas

More views in Parque Nacional Cajas

I wave goodbye to Jena and settle into the refuge for the night as the temperature drops lower and lower. I’m wearing all my thermals and am barely warm enough to sleep – It must be quite a way below freezing. I drive up and over another mountain pass towards Guayaquil and find myself in a tiny little village in the middle of dense jungle. Now that I’m down from the mountains the temperate has gone up about 20 degrees and the humidity is through the roof. The vegetation is extremely green and dense and banana plantations stretch into the distance as far as I can see.
Ecuador continues to amaze me with it’s diversity.

There is an amazing amount of nothingness

I find the nearby hot spring, another overly concrete affair perched on the side of a beautiful little river in a lush green valley and the owner lets me camp under a roof for only the price of admission ($2). While soaking I meet some locals, Engel and his wife and young daughter. He’s a really cool guy and before the night is done he invites me to hang out with him in his little town tomorrow. Cool.

Engel's farm in the jungle

In the morning we meet up and quickly head out to his farm in the Jeep, because the roads require 4×4 and his little VW will not make it all the way. On the road Engel tells me about his time in the US about 15 years ago; he caught a ship to Guatemala, hitchhiked to Mexico City and paid $12,000 USD for fake papers to get him across the border. Once in Los Angeles, he moved all over the country and finally settled around New York City. For the next seven years he lived and worked illegally in pretty much every borough around the city, to save money to bring back to his family in Ecuador. After the seven years he flew back to Ecuador (“nobody checks your papers when you are leaving”) with enough money to buy a really nice house, farm, car and still have enough left over so he doesn’t have to work too hard now. Hearing him talk about his time there is really amazing and when I ask if he wants to go back or live full time in the US he says “No, people in the US work to hard and are only interested in money and things, not family.”
His words, not mine.

Engel, proud of his machete

Cocca cut open and growing

The farm is possibly the most green, dense jungle I have ever seen and he proudly shows huge amounts cocca growing in the lower lands and young trees up higher that will be exported for timber. In five years one tree will sell for $30, which is a lot of money here. For the rest of the day we hang out in his town, meeting friends and family who are all extremely friendly and welcoming and want to hear all about my travels and life in other countries. The next day we drive into the enormous city of Guayaquil with another friend to buy parts for the bus Engel works on as a ticket collector. The city has a reputation of being very, very dangerous and they tell me time and time again I would not be safe on my own. In fact, I get the distinct feeling neither of them would feel comfortable in the city alone. It’s interesting to watch them roll up the car windows and lock the doors as soon as we get near the city – clearly they are aware of what happens here. It’s a huge city, complete with pollution, traffic and massive billboards plastered with western brands and slogans.
We drive all over town twice, and eventually end up with what we need late in the day.

The Hot Spring complex where I camped

Hanging out with Engel is a really great time and only serves to increase my liking for Ecuador.

-Dan