Four hours south of Quito lies the pretty mountain town of Baños. The town itself isn’t much to write home about, it’s fairly utilitarian, but it’s setting is stupendous. Nestled in a valley surrounded by mountain peaks with rivers running through that have eroded dramatic canyons, and to top it off an active volcano looming over everything. The town reminds me a bit of San Pedro, the town I lived in in Guatemala for six weeks whence I began this trip – touristy, but for good reason, and a real town underneath once you scratch the surface. Come to think of it, once you leave Quito, rural Ecuador looks a lot like Central America – beautiful scenery but fairly rough conditions for the people. Men spitting and pissing in the street and lots of unfinished concrete.
I can’t get over how many gringos there are here, including high school and college groups from the States. An amazing amount of hotels and restaurants for such a small town have sprung up to serve all these tourists – some nice, others terribly overpriced. It’s the kind of small town where kids run around playing unsupervised and shopkeepers take IOU’s if you don’t have small bills. It’s also safe – how nice not to have to constantly watch your back when walking around at night the way you have to in the big cities. Interestingly for such a small town, the shops and restaurants are all open quite late. And this doesn’t seem to be for the tourists – I saw the local people eating quite late. Perhaps when the economy is based on tourism they don’t need to get up as early as they do for agriculture, and their whole daily schedule shifts later.
Baños is an odd name for a town, since that’s the word used for “bathroom” in Spanish. The full name of the town is Baños de Agua Santa (“Baths of the Holy Waters”), which makes a bit more sense – the name refers to the natural hot springs that run off of neighboring Tungurahua volcano (5,023 m / 16,480 ft). Tungurahua (“throat of fire” in Quichua) is quite active – in 1999, all 20,000 residents were evacuated for months when the volcano started erupting. Imagine being given only a few hours to leave your house for who knows how long. The locals I talked to were pretty bitter about this (sleeping in shelters far away from home, crops and livestock lost, tourism plummeted) particularly since (according to them) nothing much happened. Ironically, or perhaps having learned their lesson, the next administration apparently did nothing when it actually did rain fire in 2006.
From the guidebook: “Since 1999, Tungurahua has been officially closed to climbers. There is nobody to stop you from entering the area, but the dangers of being hit by flying volcanic bombs are very real.” Naturally, I rented a motorcycle and headed straight for it. The bike had no lights, gauges, dials, or horn, but eventually we bonded after some harrowing sections of “road” covered in thick volcanic mud. A bit scary since I couldn’t tell how deep it was, but the rest of the journey was fun in a rough dirt-bike kind of way. I made it as far as the road went, and after that it would have been a 2-3 hour hike to the summit. I chose not to do this, mostly because I was paying $10/hr for the bike.
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