Muisne is a sleepy island town only 14k from the main highway, but with the feeling that you're much further away. Despite only staying one day and night on the island, our time in Muisne easily ended up being the strangest and maybe most authentic part of our trip.
Though Muisne is an island, it's only separated from the mainland by a narrow channel that we crossed in a 20-cent water ferry upon arrival. We found a hostel right on the beach - a beautiful and unspoiled 9k stretch lined with palms and basically devoid of people. The vibe here was different, and something we noticed early was the lack of fellow gringos. Our hostel was a little rough around the edges (to say it kindly), but at only $6 per person for a room it was barely more expensive than camping, so we were content. A woman with three small children showed us around, and after we were settled I inquired about the mangrove tours (the original attraction of Muisne).
Ecuador's coast was once home to extensive mangroves, similar to what you might find in the Everglades on the southern coast of Florida. Mangroves are invaluable habitat for all kinds of marine wildlife, and also perform important erosion-control for the coast. People of the coast had also depended on the mangrove ecosystems to provide food and livelihood, but a farming boom in the 80s and 90s changed all that. Shrimp farms became the road to riches, and to build a shrimp farm one must first chop down all the mangrove. Enormous stretches of forest were cleaved to make way for these farms. What's worse is that in the 90s a blight hit the farms and wiped out the shrimp, so traveling through the area we saw many abandoned farms without ecological or economic value - a shame.
Our hostel hostess informed us that there were mangrove tours in town, yes, but that her husband also offered tours right out of the hostel. Normally I'm fairly skeptical of these setups, but after hearing that the price would be comparable, we would be the only tourists, and that we could fish while visiting the mangroves, we were sold. We then met “Tocayo,” her husband, a long-haired, barefooted, and tattooed beach hippie guy. Wish fishing gear in tow we headed to the marina to grab our boat and head out, but it wasn't going to be just us on the trip…
We paid $50 for the tour, which is not chump change here in Ecuador. While waiting to get on the boat we met three other dudes who were along for the ride. Not guides, but definitely buddies of Tocayo. It was then that it dawned on me; with few tourists coming through the area, the tour was a big deal, and everyone was going to get in on the action. We rented a powerful motorboat (on our dime) and all piled in for what would be the most ridiculous tour Lynsey and I have ever been on.
It started innocent enough: pointing out general things, a few facts here and there, and then cracking a Club beer to be passed around. Beer's not too common on a guided deal, but this tour was a far cry from “official.” We pitched our fishing line over the side and dragged it along while cruising around. It wasn't long before both Lynsey and I had caught an ugly and fairly dangerous type of fish that everyone agreed was worse to run into than a shark. Maybe it was cause for celebration, but the next thing we knew our “tour guides” were passing around a joint. It couldn't have been more natural for these dudes, cruising the river, catching fish, and smoking a doobie. Lynsey and I eyed each other in hilarious disbelief - we were funding a day on the river with the stoners of Muisne! If that wasn't crazy enough, then the guys thought it was a good idea to start checking the crab traps…
When we got closer to San Gregorio, another coastal/riverbank community, we started seeing floating plastic pop bottles in the river. The bottles marked the spots of crab traps - large baskets with fish bait sitting on the bottom of the river. These traps were exclusively set and checked by the people of San Gregorio, and would pay off quite handsomely, an indispensable income for them. We found out that a large crab could get you a buck in town, which is good money when you add up a day's catch. The first trap our “guides” checked seemed mostly out of curiosity, and there was nothing in it. But, soon they seemed set on finding an occupied trap, and once they reeled one up with a big crab inside they chucked it inside the boat - we were now hijacking traps! The stoners squealed with delight and encouraged our driver to go to the next trap and the next trap. Crabs were piling into our boat! However, the guys did seem hesitant when checking the traps near houses and people, for they knew that this was river robbery. Soon we had nearly 13 large crabs on top of each other in the boat and the guys were ecstatic. Lynsey and I were literally “along for the ride,” not sure what to make of this morally-challenged crab thievery, but soaking in the personalities of these guys nonetheless. The mood was high and everyone was reveling in the catch until someone noticed a motorboat behind us with two guys from San Gregorio heading straight for us…
Our driver cranked the gas - we were now in a high-speed chase! Ironically, we sped through what I thought was the most beautiful section of mangrove; a narrow river that almost became a tunnel of green. Lynsey and I were in disbelief. Not only had our $50 funded the crab robbery, but it also got our guys the bigger and better boat for the getaway! Soon we left our pursuers far behind and it became clear that we were home-free. Tocayo turned to us and said, with a smile, that this was the first time they took crabs from the traps, and I smiled back cordially at his lie. However, it did help me understand one more thing about Ecuador - people will take what they can get. Whether it's trying to charge us double for a taxi ride or checking unmanned crab traps, I somehow felt better knowing that not only gringos occasionally get ripped off. Here are some photos to give you a feel for ¨the tour¨...
For you map folk, here's how the loop turned out:
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