The towns on the loop were rural and the farmlands clung most precariously to what were effectively cliffs. Although a marginal amount of tourism existed in the area, it had not yet managed to influence the humble nature of these mountain communities and the villagers that inhabited them.
After viewing a few pueblitos along the trail, Rosa and I came to Chugchilan, which looked out onto a gorgeously green gargantuan gorge (it was actually more of a river valley, but I hate to spoil alliteration). We decided to stay in the Chugchilan a day longer than planned, as to afford us the opportunity of taking a bus to the next town of Quilotoa instead of opting for the alternative 22k trek to the same destination. The trek had actually become the safest means of passage between the two towns after a number of recent landslides brought on by torrential rains and a small earthquake had made the dirt road linking the two a bit hazardous. Despite my reservations about taking a marginal bus over marginal roads, I was repeatably assured that the journey was possible, and only marginally terrifying – thus our brilliant plan was set.
We spent the day hiking around Chugchilan, and it was both idyllic and serene. The only sounds that would occasionally permeate the silence of the clouds was that of the solitary farmer´s hoe, the baaing of a herd of sheep, or the inclement packs of rabid dogs (which only reluctantly backed away after being threatened by large sticks and rocks). Every view was a panorama, and every hill revealed a new dreamlike landscape with more unicorns than you can shake a rabid stick at.

2 comments:
all this words are worthless without pics!!....and loosing a CF card is not an excuse. :)
who is Oscar?
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