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!)