Vilcabamba and Podocarpus: The South of Ecuador

"School's out for summer!"
-Alice Cooper

The Vilcabamba Valley under the high peaks of Podocarpus National Park

With the end of the school cycle, Lynsey and I, like most teachers I know, were fine and ready for a little escape to recharge our batteries. Lynsey had just finished her first full school year, no small feat, and we both had officially fulfilled our original contract at the school. A year ago we might have said that it would be now that we may come back to the U.S. That, of course, is not how things have turned out. The people and landscapes of Ecuador have charmed us, and left us with a curiosity and an itch that there is much more to learn.

So, what I'm dancing around here is the fact that we were more than happy to get out of Cuenca for a mini-vacation to the southern regions of Ecuador - made even better with no immediate prospect of work responsibilities waiting for us when we get back. We decided to visit Vilcabamba, a small town with a reputation that precedes it, and from there venture into the mysterious Podocarpus National Park.

Vilcabamba was first made famous in the 1970s when a study came out faming the town for the longevity of its residents. Though it was only a single study, and there hasn't been much further concrete research to confirm these qualities, Vilcabamba still proudly wears this crown as a place with a quality of life so high your body will just keep kickin'.

This claim to fame did not go unnoticed, and the first gringos started arriving soon thereafter. Amongst our friends in Cuenca, Vilcabamba has the reputation of “very gringo” (and keep in mind that Cuenca has its fair share!). With these things in mind, Lynsey and I went down to see what the mythos was all about.

We spent some time walking the town during the day, and the gringo reputation most certainly holds. We wondered at first, where were the locals? The square is lined by cafés with outdoor seating full of eclectic ex-pats busily chatting on about this and that. This was what we imagined. We also had heard about the gringo-food, which as it turns out, did not disappoint. During our few days there Lynsey and I had Mexican, BBQ, and homemade pasta - all treats that are mostly absent in Cuenca.

Later, though, we were glad to see the locals out and about on the streets - turns out they had been at work all day! The town had a more familiar feel with the locals around, ironically, and a new complexity about how the foreign and local cultures must blend and clash to coexist together.

A taste of "the simple life" at the Pole House

Thanks to a teacher-friend, we received a great recommendation to stay at an ecolodge called Rumi Wilco. Revolutionary for the area, Rumi Wilco is a joint-effort of land-owners to create a nature reserve that they can sustain with tourism. To do this, the reserve has a number of rustic yet very charming cabins along with other basic accommodations for travelers that like a more relaxed, natural environment. Lynsey and I were all smiles when we saw our little refuge for the next few days, the famous Pole House (turning 21 years old this year). Just a few feet from a river, without neighbors, and with an outdoor shower, we had found the escape we were hoping for.

For almost a full day Lynsey and I simply enjoyed the cabin, each other, and some quiet time without work. Lynsey slept, I wrote, and we both knew we had found a special spot that we'd certainly be coming back to.

Podocarpus, on the other hand, seemed to lay in a shroud of mystery (or fog, actually, as we would later find out…). Looking online for decent, straightforward information about the park was nearly futile. I was confident that we would learn what we needed to when we arrived, so we loaded up our backpacking gear and off we went. As always with this country, stepping off the bus is stepping into a slightly new, little world.

In Vilcabamba we found an older taxi driver (Lenin, whose grandfather is famous for being the second-oldest man in town, having died at 127!) who agreed to bring us into Podocarpus National Park. We met him early in the morning, fully equipped for an overnight backpacking trip to Las Lagunas del Compadre, and crossed our fingers for good weather. The only things we'd read about the park was that it rained, always. With that in mind, we jumped out of the taxi and bid our driver farewell. Up we hiked into the mist…

The beginning of the hike brought us up through thick cloud forest, and revealed the diversity that defines the park. I later read that over 40% of the park's flora is endemic - which means it only grows in the park and nowhere else! We marveled at the many species our eyes had certainly never seen before, and slowly but happily made our way up to the páramo (high plains above tree-line). Along the way I found signs of fox, ocelot, and Andean bear (spectacled bear), and was glad to again be hiking amongst wild creatures with space to roam!

The hike took quite a turn when we reached the páramo. The hike followed a completely exposed ridge-line for some time, and we happened to be up there on a day when the weather was angry. A powerful 25-30 m.p.h. wind cut directly across the ridge, nearly knocking us down, while rain pounded horizontally into our faces. To add insult to injury, the trail itself was a muddy pudding that penetrated our waterproof boots in minutes. The situation was starting to become a bit critical…

We were both wet, and Lynsey was starting to get cold. The girl stayed tough, however, and kept promising that we could continue on to the lakes. We did, for awhile, until a desperately cold snack-break convinced me of an important factor - we weren't having fun anymore! With that, the decision was instantaneous and we started to retrace our steps back to the trailhead. Finally descending out of the páramo, we welcomed the shelter of the trees and stopped to wring out the heavy, muddy water from our socks.

Our faithful taxi driver was able to come back and pick us up in the park, and a friendly park ranger brought us hot tea and rolls. Gotta love the rangers! We also were able to see an Andean wolf (actually a fox) near the refuge while waiting for our ride.

Unfortunately, the only reason I got this photo was because this guy had been fed near the refuge

After a spirit-restoring warm shower at Rumi Wilco and a nice dinner, we were ready to take advantage of our last day in town by climbing a nearby peak called Mandango. Despite being told by iTur (tourist info office) that we couldn't hike without a guide (which is absolutely false), Lynsey and I were able to eventually find the trailhead and climb steadily to the impressive peak high above the town. From there we soaked in the stretching farmlands, corrosive cattle trails, untouched peaks, and misty ridges of Podocarpus. It was a fine way to end our stay, and looking into the foggy páramo of Podocarpus I knew we would be back…when the weather was better!

Following the trip, we made it back to Cuenca for two days of busy packing and farewells to good friends before our big journey back to the States. Now, as I write these few final words, we're in the San Salvador airport (one flight down, three to go...), and we are starting to look forward to re-discovering what we love about "home" with the friends and family we miss. For the next post, we'll try to relay the experience of temporary re-assimilation into the north of America!

This is what it's all about