Banos Ecuador

August 6, 2000

Baños, Ecuador

The quaint little town of Baños is situated in a canyon directly below the live volcano Tungurahua which, after seeing the stern tourist warnings and the deserted appearance of the town, makes a lot of sense. We had been told that there were several recent eruptions of this smoldering giant, which had weighed heavily in my decision to go to Baños. I mean... how many times in your life are you going to have the chance to see a live volcano, much less climb one? We arrived the afternoon of the fifth, hired a guide and went to the base of the mountain to watch and listen. After half an hour in an overloaded van filled with tourists from several continents, we stopped at a deserted little town on the foot of the mountain.

Rebecca and I piled out of the van to find a group of about 150 people standing in the dark looking up at a cloud-covered mountainside. What a disappointment. I mean, after listening to the spiel of the tour agent, I was all ready to see some fireworks! The only fireworks we saw that night were the incessant flickering of lighters as the rowdy group around us sparked up cigarettes laughing and talking the entire time we waited for nature's volcanic display.

By the next morning, I was ready to brave the mountain that we had been told was too dangerous to climb. Rebecca, true to form, was ready to try whatever I threw her way. We started out from the hostel at 10:00 A.M., a little late by climbers measure but well within the realm of our planned day hike. We walked through town and with a little guidance from the occasional passerby (umm... and a taxi!) found our way to the trailhead. Wow... standing at the base of that monolith was awe-inspiring. I looked skyward, realizing this may be more than the day hike we had planned. As we started the climb, I knew Rebecca might not have the desire that was growing in me to go to the top. She had after all just gotten over a bad bout of the flu a few weeks prior. Admittedly a little frustrated, I pressed forward stopping from time to time to let her catch up.

As fate would have it as I was sitting on a stone, head in hands, contemplating turning back, Rebecca rode up with a newfound friend and his son on three horses! It truly amazes me when the perfect circumstance appears at just the right time. Rebecca had found a way to give me the climb that I was looking for without having to push herself too far beyond her limits. She flashed a cute little smile as she, Fausto and Ricardo trotted past on horseback. I just shook my head in disbelief and started up the trail.

In all honesty, I had never planned on climbing all the way to the Refugio, 6000 feet from the base, but as my focus sharpened and my body started to move in harmony, I found a new goal had presented itself. Rebecca was having a great time talking with Fausto, learning of his life and family, and my determination had kicked into high gear. The climb progressed with fluidity that matched my energy level, waning and waxing in concert with my strength. I grew into my concentration following the patterns of my breath and movement as we headed towards the summit. I could feel my lungs straining to collect oxygen in the rarefied air and suppressed the urge to pant while fighting the exaggerated movements that come with the onset of fatigue.

As the mountain grew below us, the temperature dropped rapidly. I stopped to change out of my sweat-covered shirt, donning a polar fleece. Looking out from the mountainside, it seemed as if the earth was growing out below us, spreading further and further towards the horizon. Beautiful sharp mountain peaks gave way to the lush valleys below as clouds faded in and out of existence before your very eyes. Baños looked like a helpless speck at the base of this monolith, waiting for the inevitable. I traced the path of the lava flow that is sure to ensue... down the mountainside... through the canyon... right over the top of Baños. I could do nothing more but shake my head and plod on up the mountainside. The inhabitants of Baños say they had been forcefully evacuated once already and chosen to return three short months later. They claim that the government had made them sell their possessions, their cattle, their way of life for pennies on the dollar. Loaded onto flatbed trucks, they were shipped off to the surrounding cities and dropped off... most without money or the ability to restore their lifestyle. They waited there for the eminent eruption whose forecast had cost them everything they knew and cherished... and waited and waited.

Finally, many of them rushed the blockades, reclaiming the land and belongings they had left behind, deciding that the danger of living in the path of destruction was no greater than the dangers of being penniless on the streets of an Ecuadorian city. At least here in Baños they have the dignity that years of their sweat and toil afforded them, unlike the nameless, faceless existence of being homeless in one of the poorer countries of the world. I have to admire their courage, even if I doubt their sanity as it flies in the face of conventional wisdom.

I turned from Baños and looking up what was left of the mountain started to doubt my own sanity. The peak itself was gone. In fact you could trace a line along the crown of the mountain where molten candelas had fallen, destroying the vegetation, giving the terrain an otherworldly appearance. Determination checked in at this point, overriding the self-preserving good sense that had tried to rob me of my goal. I pressed on.

By this time, we had been climbing almost six hours and the combination of altitude, the severity of the grade and fatigue were starting to take their toll. I knew that the Refugio was no more twenty minutes or so up the mountain, but my legs had turned to lead and my lungs to jelly. The urge to pant was no longer controllable and every step upward was a monumental effort of mind of matter. My trembling legs would move no more... quite a new experience for me. I had heard of fatigue of this magnitude but to this point in my life had never experienced it. Rebecca and Fausto appeared on the horses and I resigned to admit my defeat. Fausto told us of the proximity of the Refugio and Rebecca decided to give up her steed and go on foot so I could ride to the top.

As if the knowledge that my stamina had failed me were not enough, having to watch Rebecca labor on before me was too much. I rode the horse feeling its massive heart thundering away in its chest and listening to its heaving breath as it stumbled up the mountainside. Feeling my strength returning and my pride welling, I climbed down from the horse to finish the last hundred or so feet on foot. There was no way I wanted to arrive on horseback.

We rounded a bend and ahead in the distance I could see the Refugio. A wave of accomplishment washed over me as we stepped onto the porch and looked out over the valley. It was an amazing site that lends you the feeling of being on top of the world. Looking out over this great expanse of Ecuador's mountain range, I noticed for the first time that the mountain was moving below me. The ground vibrated and thrummed as pockets of gas welled through its molten core. Looking up the mountainside you could now make out the crater and see its smoldering crown. Fausto led me through a broken window to show me the interior and the now closed Refugio.

The Refugio had been closed for close to a year when we arrived and was off limits while the army still patrolled its mountain checkpoints. Now it was fair game for whoever had the gumption to climb the volcano. Once a climber's retreat, it lay 1000 meters from the peak. Climbers from all over the world would stay here planning the next leg of their ascent. Armed with ice axes and crampons, they would brave the then sub zero temperatures to reach the icy peak. Of course that was when the mountain had a peak. The crater had replaced the peak and melted the icy cap, sending avalanches of mud and stone down the mountain face. Now the Refugio lay in a shambles of its former self. After a medium sized candela had ripped its way through both stories and the concrete foundation, climbers with any sense decided to steer clear of these high mountain accommodations.

We spent a little less than thirty minutes exploring before we headed down the mountain. This was when the fatigue really set in. My knees felt like they were filled with broken glass as every step of the decent jarred my very soul. I had no idea that I had pushed myself to this point and had I known I would have surely turned back well before the top. In all honesty, I had never experienced such pain in my legs before. Rebecca who had seemed quite content to ride the horse up the mountain was gripped with fear at the prospect of riding down. I must admit that the sure-footed beast felt more so on the way up than it did on the way down. Slipping and groaning, it still pressed its way down the narrow, rut filled path.

By the time we had reached Fausto's father's little home midway down the mountain, it was a hard decision to press on in the dark. I convinced Rebecca that the chances of us making it down the mountain while our legs were still warm were much better than after they had cramped up in the night.

We rested with the family, having a warm tea and listening to stories of life on the mountain. Hearing of the almost nightly eruptions and enormous candelas, we decided to rest out on the bench under the stars, which peaked out through the thick clouds. I sat there only able to hear the mountains rumbling as it was shrouded by the darkened clouds. Then a shimmer of moonlight shown at the crown of the crater as the clouds opened exposing the rim of the smoldering beast. I was amazed to see the mountain that I had just climbed spew forth a molten bolder followed by a slowly advancing river of lava. I could see the skin of the flow crack, exposing its glowing fluid interior as it followed its convoluted path down the mountainside. And then it was as if the mountain decided that was all it would reveal, in a moments time, it gathered a veil of clouds to continue its rumbling in seclusion. It was as if the last ingredient had been added to this magical day... I knew that this was all I was going to see.

Fausto, Rebecca and I headed down the mountain in the dark of night. The narrow mountain path, lit only by our torches, was even more treacherous than I had remembered. Deep ruts and loose rocks made the going very slow and arduous. I had opted to ride the horse down the mountainside as my knees were throbbing and Rebecca wanted no part of the adventure of a night descent on horseback. Then it happened... Rebecca knees gave out as well! She was in such pain that she could not walk another step. She just stood there in the path not ready to face the alternative. After several minutes, Fausto and I had convinced her that the only option was to ride the horse the rest of the way down the mountain.

Rebecca climbed onto the horse and faced her fears, riding over boulders and along a Cliffside that dropped more than a thousand feet down to the Banos nightline. She laughed, fending off the tears of fright, as the horse slipped and groaned, negotiating the toughest spots of the trail. By the time we had made it to the base of the mountain, she had overcome her fear convincing me that she is as courageous as any person I have ever known. I respect her more now than ever and know she is the perfect woman with which to explore the world. Her sense of adventure is matched only by her determination. I know she is an apt partner for any adventure I can dream... and boy, can I dream.