trekking el altar

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there he was: my g-man, hanging from a cliff's edge by his fingertips, with a heavy pack on his back. below, there was a sheer drop to rocks, melting snow, and almost certain death. *shudder*. my heart still races with the intensity of that fear. my heart still races with the intensity of the relief that g is still around to be loved.

so the next installment in G+O vs ecuador was a 4 day hike in the el altar region of central ecuador. the plan was to hike up to 4000m on the first day, 4600m on the second and camp early so that we could head out well before dawn for a glacier climb on our third day. we had tents, we had crampons, we had ice-picks, we even had horses! oh man: we were ready.

riobamba is a fuckshitcunt city in central ecuador that g and i soon came to know and über-hate. we busted out of it ~ 9am and were soon powering our little legs up a gorgeous green valley at top speed near the el altar volcanic mountain range.

our guide was a man named eloy - a 40 year old man with nystagmus and a drug history who was rescued by jesus (and converted into a self-righteous cunt). we got along ok on the first day, but decided not to tell him too much about our private lives after i said that we didn't have wives and he joked back with a classic ecuadorian expression: "soltero maduro maricón seguro!" which translates as 'single older man, faggot for sure!' i laughed with him, but then realised what he'd said and thought: who the fuck are you calling older?

despite eloy's claim that he was an amazing guide that had a super-human capacity to care for his trekkers (i quote: when they are thirsty i give them something to drink, when they are tired i carry their packs, when they are cold i put my arms around them to warm them, when they cut their finger i feel the pain myself), he was the worst guide either g or i had ever had. when it came to guiding, there was none to speak of: he just disappeared. we were within 100m of him less than 5% of the time as he would just run off and leave us to follow his footprints in the snow, or (when there were no footprints), just continue ahead in the direction we thought he'd taken.

the first day we reached the campsite by lunchtime and decided to head up to the second night's campsite that afternoon. this meant an ascent from 2754m to 4600m in one day, but a diamox a day keeps the doctor away. the doctor and his ex-boyfriend in fact: away on holidays and still breathing without mountain sickness.

we arrived at 4600m at 17:00 and started putting up the tents just as a blizzard hit. this is a photo of our tent 1 hour after pitching it:

after a night of heavy wind and snow (in which i slept like a baby but g was wide awake with the fear that the wind would lift the tent up and throw us over the cliff's edge), we woke to an exquisitely beautiful view of the high mountain range covered in a fresh layer of snow, and our own tent half buried in it!

the view of the lake below our campsite went from this on the first afternoon:

to this the following morning:

so the glacier climb was dumped for being unreachable and dangerous, and the horses were sent back with our crampons and tents, and we loaded up our backpacks to attempt a crossing of the mountains through the snow into an adjacent valley where there was an old farmhouse we could sleep in for the next two nights. because his pack was so heavy, eloy asked us to carry extra stuff, so i ended up carrying a backpack on my back and another smaller one on my front.

by the time we left, the snow was already melting, and with heavy packs and gumboots, the path through the mountains was treacherous. there had been two horsemen - one of which returned with the horses the way we had come the first day, and the other - angel - who continued with us to carry some of the food. angel beat out the path, eloy was nowhere to be seen, and g and i continued on slowly following their footprints, falling to the ground as sheets of snow collapsed under us, or crashing down inclines onto rocks and into ditches. i won't deny it: we were scared for our lives. shit-scared. on two occasions we had to negotiate significant cliffs - one down and one up. g was left hanging from the first one when the snow path collapsed under his feet (as per the intro) and stayed there until angel rescued him. on the second, angel waited for us at the top and just put out an ice-pick in time for g to grab onto when the rocks gave way under his little frog's legs and he was left hanging over yet another precipice. it is a horrible thing to watch helplessly when someone you love's life is in danger, and obviously even worse for the one you love...what do you reckon g?

the danger, however, we accepted: we wanted an adventure. but what we also wanted (and had paid for) was someone to show us how to get up and down the cliff-edges and across snow fields that were collapsing under foot. we got nada. when we descended to below the snow level, angel ran ahead to dump stuff at the shelter and go home, and we were left with eloy, who disappeared...quite literally without a trace. there were no longer footprints as there was no snow, there was no path, and we basically bush-bashed in the direction of the hut until we glimpsed our ghost guide sitting in the distance on the other side of the mountain. we were exhausted, and it was at this point that g fell and twisted his ankle. it was a minor sprain that responded to strapping and rest, but what if he'd broken his leg and couldn't continue? we were isolated in the mountains by ourselves with no idea where we were, no path to follow, and no one to show us where to go. what a bad guide. what a really bad guide. incidentally g also cut his finger when he fell and i'm sure eloy didn't feel a fucking thing.

now that that badness is out of my system, i have to tell you that the crossing itself was simply breathtaking. the dusting of snow highlighted what were already spectacular views, and every time we reached a new valley or got a new view of the soaring mountains around us we almost gasped with the beauty of it. the snow-fields were vast, and stretched to the horizon. below, lush green valleys with running streams opened up in every direction. though we were a bit scared being up there alone, it also meant that we had this wonderland all to ourselves. g and o on top of the world!

i can't help myself: i have to spit out this final bit of bile: when we got to the farmhouse and eloy disappeared to go to the toilet, i put down my two backpacks and sneakily picked up his, just to see how heavy it actually was. it was lighter that one of mine: OMFG.

the next day i hiked out to a crater lake with eloy while g stayed in the farmhouse valley resting his ankle. we were the only people there, and though there were many rooms with beds in them at this very pretty hacienda - perhaps 5 rooms of beds in our building and other rooms in the other building - eloy crammed himself into the same room as us for both nights. it was his turn to be shit-scared: he claimed that the house was haunted by evil spirits but that he could stay alive by being close to us. evil spirits? god? supernatural activity? how horribly difficult it must be to live a normal life while in the clutches of this fundamental treachery to intellectual integrity. i almost forgave poor eloy. almost but not quite: cunt.

the final day was a gorgeous hike down from the heights of el altar into the heat of the farmland below. we took it easy and just loved it. we eventually arrived in a village where a car was waiting to take us back to riofuckya. while handing back the rented gear, we decided to mention to the dutch owner of the agency that the guiding had been less than what we had expected. she dismissed us with an expression that said "i'm so sorry, but i've already got all of your money so i don't give a shit whether you enjoyed it or not". it was such a slap in the face. though dad's going to be upset that i say it, i was ready to bust that bitch's head like a coconut. instead, we just sucked it up, grabbed our stuff, and headed back to quito.

conclusion? amazing. definitely two thumbs up for the el altar region and the hiking of it. we have amazing photos and amazing memories. the bad parts only augmented our conspiratorial intimacy, and the left over venom? hey: i just put it online. what's a blog for? peace to you all! (except the fuckers at agencia de viajes julio verne!)

galapagos

what do you think about when you hear the word galapagos? isolated pacific islands, giant tortoises, charles darwin? perhaps your mind wanders and you ask yourself why we're still battling with the infectious stupidity of organised religion over 150 years after the publication of 'on the origin of species'? i know i am. but let's get back to the islands.

like many people, i thought that the galapagos islands were a remote natural paradise, devoid of any non-tourist human activity (past or present) and bursting with countless animal and plant species, all competing for tourist dollars.

the truth is that the islands are pretty barren, with surprisingly few species of animals and even less species of plants than i had expected. the other truth is that many of the islands are inhabited - the capital puerto ayora has a population of almost 20,000 inhabitants, and before the ecuadorian government sent a group of people over to the islands in 1832 to claim it once and for all, they were temporarily inhabited by whalers and pirates, all of whom left their mark (graffiti, rats, treasure, etc).

one of the more interesting human stories is that of german dentist freidrich ritter and his lover dora strauch, who left their respective spouses to come and live in the islands in 1929 seeking a natural life. where it gets weird is that they removed all of their teeth before leaving germany, and took only a single set of steel dentures to share between the two of them to munch the food that they grew outside the lava tunnel they lived in. after a few years of regularly being beaten to a pulp by freidrich, dora eventually killed him by poisoning his food and headed back to germany, where she got back with her husband and wrote a book about her adventures, the proceeds of which presumably went towards buying a new set of teeth.

what about the animals? yes: they were amazing, of course they were! because most larger animals on the islands have evolved without any predators whatsoever, they haven't learnt to fear humans, and you can just walk right up to them and they don't give a shit. (the honey badger would feel right at home there). you can - and we did - come face to face with giant tortoises, blue-footed boobies, sea lions, green sea turtles, iguanas, penguins and many other animals and they just sit there totally unperturbed while you're having a cameragasm.

the islands are volcanic, and some are covered with huge lava fields, frozen in various states of ripple or kink that make you feel like you're on another planet.

so what did we actually do? there are various ways to explore the galapagos - some tours are land-based, where you stay in a hostel and cruise out to various places during the day, and others are boat-based, where you sleep on the boat and thus are able to go to islands that would otherwise be too far away. g and i went on an (expensive) 7-night cruise on a catamaran with 6 staff (including our guide who to my initial distress was also called diego), and 8 other tourists. there were 3 lovely swiss germans, a honeymooning swedish couple, two burnt-out and teched-up middle-aged canadian hippies and an older french woman called coco. coco pushed everyone right to the edge, so much so that on the penultimate day of the tour, when she dropped her camera into shallow water during a beach landing, the entire boatload of staff and tourists exploded in a collective ecstasy of schadenfreude.

we were served three meals a day plus snacks - it was like a high class restaurant - and had a little cabin with a little bathroom and a double bed set above it. it was cool, but i can't deny that i was a bit scared during one night's choppy ocean crossing where g forced me to sleep on the fall-out-of-bed-and-smash-your-face-on-the-floor side of the bed and when we ploughed into some of those big waves we got airborne.

our guide was professional and really knew his shit, and that's exactly what we wanted. the other staff were good, but i have to say that it's difficult to have a relaxed affinity with most ecuadorian men when they know you're gay, because the culture is super-macho, misogynistic and homophobic like a mofo. misunderstanding? fear? i think most of these guys just don't know how to react in the presence of known faggots (we will turn on them. we will turn on them and force them to become part of our pink shirt-wearing, kylie minogue-listening, cock-loving army). on one occasion the boat's engineer walked into our room while g and i were spooning, and though he apologised (why the fuck was he coming into our room anyway?!), he treated us with suspicion for the rest of the cruise, and would regard us with a condescending facial expression that i was tempted to treat with a swift kick to the nuts.

the cruise was a bit like a boot-camp. a bell would ring for breakfast at 07:30, another bell an hour later when it was time to head to one of the islands in the dingy, another for lunch etc, and by the end of it we felt a bit like pavlov's dogs. once we got over the fear of missing something and living in regret for the rest of our lives, we stopped going out to all of the islands and allowed ourselves to just lie back and relax on the boat, and that was as amazing an experience as seeing the wildlife.

so, final thoughts on the galapagos islands? go there. this is something you must do before you die. but my advice: do it just before you die. because at the end of the day, it's a week of watching, rather than doing. though it's some of the most spectacular watching you'll ever do, those islands and their animals aren't going anywhere. while you're still young and beautiful, spend your time riding, hiking, swimming, dancing, leaping, lunging, and all the other things that you won't be able to do when you're old and decrepit (but still able to go on a galapagos tour). or you could just go now and have the time of your life! two thumbs up for those wonderful islands.

mountain bike vs volcano: cotopaxi and chimborazo

we bookended our trip to the galapagos islands with two days of mountain bike riding down two massive volcanoes: the glorious cotopaxi near quito, and the equally glorious chimborazo near that abortion of a city riobamba. the similarities: both started in the snow, both days left us with bruised and aching arses, and both groups were made up of awesome people that had at least one hot english guy in them that left g and i breathless.

the guide for the cotopaxi ride was called diego. on a colombian beach 11 years ago, i clicked with a man called diego who invited my friends and i to his bar and offered us free drinks, free marijuana and even a free woman (said chattel was thrown onto my lap). when i rejected the human offering and told him that i was gay, he turned on me like a cut snake and kicked me out of the bar. ever since i've been much more upfront with my sexuality, and i've treated with suspicion anyone called diego. that is my story. despite this, diego the cotopaxi bike guide was just fine.

there was a (freaking) blizzard atop cotopaxi when we started, and with snow and killer winds, but only cotton ladies' gloves, our hands were threatening to auto-amputate at the wrist after about 30 seconds of crazed riding. within 20 minutes, however, things got a bit warmer, our hands defrosted, and the rest of the ride was just magnificent: a steep descent along a winding dirt road, a cross-country section in an alpine valley, and a final sprint down a dirt track that was so bumpy it rearranged my internal organs and almost flattened some external ones.

chimborazo was another story altogether. we started with a quick climb to a hut at 5000m (glorious!!!) and then had a short 8km ride down a dirt track through the moonscape of the volcanic highlands filled with camel-like animals and wildflowers, before driving to the start of the old pan-american highway and hooning downhill for 42km through valleys, villages and fields. wowsers!

that's about all i have to say about the rides. they were just really, really fucking good, a highlight of our time here in ecuador. i did make one observation though. in each group there mere mortals (g and i included), and then there were gods. these gods were always young men - diego was one of them, but there were others too. and whilst g and i got the knack of going over dips and corrugations at high speed and felt pretty proud of ourselves, just when we thought we had reached the terminal velocity for a human being on a bike, one of these gods shot past in a blur of colour and laughter - sometimes not even hanging on to the fricken handlebars - and left us gasping.

what is the difference between a man and a god in the world of the mountain bike? the fear. once you reach a certain age, injuries tend not to heal but to linger forever. at that point the cost of a protracted recovery outweighs the thrill of losing control, and unless you're fucked in the head, you can no longer afford to fall, and you develop the fear. michal, a middle-aged polish guy that was on the chimborazo ride with us summed up the fear perfectly:

i will fall: i know that i will fall. and when i fall i will roll, and i will keep rolling. sometimes i will be rolling alone and the bike will be rolling behind me, and sometimes the bike and i will be rolling together, but we will never stop rolling.

so i'm old now. i'm balding, i'm hurting, and i've got the fear. but you know what? i reckon i've just entered my golden age. this is the golden age of ondrej, and i'm intending to milk it for all it's worth. peace to you all!

baños

spanish for toilet, baños is a small town gloriously nestled between mountain volcanoes, and was the first destination in G+O's ecuadorian adventure.

the bike ride from baños to puyo is raved about, so after g changed into some shorts in the reception area of our hostel in front of three ecuadorian virgins (who were blown against the walls shielding their eyes from his bubble butt - think zoolander's blue steel), we rented some bikes and headed straight out to see what all the fuss was about. what was the fuss about? who the fuck knows. is the scenery spectacular? yes! but ecuador is a country full of spectacular scenery, and there are many other areas where you can enjoy the views without sharing a highway with massive trucks that try to push you off the road and leave you choking on their fumes. one thumb down.

you know how some people change when they go travelling, but in a bad way? i don't know why this happens, but it does. because baños is a bit of an activity centre, it's a magnet for tourists, and our hostel was packed to the rafters with tourists of the changed in a bad way variety. these boys and girls were way too cool for school, too cool to make eye contact (even when their faces passed within 50cm of our faces) and definitely too cool to respond when we said hola. i felt that this was unacceptable, and after an evening full of it, i was filled with the need to re-educate. my desire was to line those gringos up in two parallel rows, facing each other about a metre apart, and then walk down the middle with my hands out slapping everyone's face like a greek sunday school teacher. i would then turn around, walk back between the rows and engage in another round of slaps, and finally I would select the prettiest blonde girl in the group, and on a small platform in front of the others i would either kick her in the vag or wrestle her to the ground. what are your thoughts?

like i said, baños is surrounded by these glorious mountains, and on a clifftop at the edge of town (at the base of which are the holy water thermal baths of the virgin) they have constructed a large cross which glows with a rich orange light, so that at night, there appears to be burning cross floating in the sky about 400m above the city. I found the effect quite wonderful; it was a victory not just for jesus but for aesthetics in general.

now baños doesn't just mean toilet, it also (mainly) means baths, and baños is named for the baths that you can find in and around town, all fueled by the geothermally heated water that comes bubbling up all over the place. due to a combination of jet lag and excitement, the morning of our second day we were out of bed at 4:30am, and decided to follow the burning cross in the sky and go for an early morning dip in the holy water thermal baths of the virgin. the baths opened at 5am, and though we were the only gringos, there was already a queue of what looked like 100 year old ecuadorians who were there for their daily cure. the cliff that the baths are at the base of has a waterfall running down it (some of whose waters are redirected to the cool-down shower area), and splashing about with hundreds of other people in these cliff-base baths as the sun gradually came up and the town came to life was a real highlight. (unfortunately no photos)

there were three pools at the holy water thermal baths of the virgin: a freezing cold one that I almost died in during a two minute endurance session, a packed to bursting point hot bath in the middle where g could be found mixing with locals, and a scalding hot death-by-bath next to the waterfall that was 43 degrees plus and had only a few lobsters hanging around in it. g chickened out, but I hopped in, got addicted to the heat, and stayed there until I was well and truly cooked.

we spent the rest of the morning hiking in the mountains above town, first to the burning cross and later over to another mountainside where we encountered a massive statue of the virgin mary. it was so kitsch i almost screamed, but one has to remember that in these parts, they just love the virgin.

just before heading back to quito, we had an unfortunate culinary experience at the baños food market. most places in Ecuador serve almuerzo (lunch) in a fixed combination of soup, main meal, juice and sometimes a small dessert. all of this usually only costs $2.50, and really hits the spot. when we rocked up for a feed, I spotted an almuerzo with sopa de pata and excitedly told g: 'they've got duck soup!' we were seated and ready to eat before you could say barbra streisand. unfortunately the spanish word for duck isn't pata, it's pato. pata means animal foot. and that's exactly what we got - a bowl of soup, and sitting right in the middle of it: a foot. after china, I'm not too surprised by feet or faces or foetuses turning up in my food, but it crossed some invisible line for g, and the poor thing was nauseated for the next 36 hours. mental note: when cooking for g in the future, avoid the temptation to serve soup with a foot in it...

and though that was all for baños, G+O's ecuadorian adventure had only just begun (perhaps you've looked ahead at photos on facebook?), so please fasten your seatbelts and join us next time for more volcanoes, giant tortoises and near death alpine experiences!