Situated in dense amazon basin rainforest near to the Colombian border in north-east Ecuador, the town is an unattractive jumble of concrete, laid out in the usual grid pattern. Its low altitude means that it's much hotter than Quito, and much wetter. Lago Agrio is not the safest of places - its uneasy proximity to Colombia's active border is made apparent by the presence of armed soldiers at the small airport. We were two of the very few tourists on board the flight; a small plane full of businessmen as smooth as the local oil they trade, and some additional military personnel. Interestingly, one of the latter, a woman, was studying a document on the preservation of the environment local to Lago Agrio - either an encouraging sign or a meaningless piece of red-tape.

We were met by a driver with a van, and rattled off up the road. Three hours later, including a stop in a sweltering and unfriendly road-side cafe for a stale ham roll, we were beginning to wonder how far away our rainforest reserve was. The agent I had booked the tour through had been vague, and our driver was a deeply taciturn man. Finally the road literally ended at a high fence, and we got out. This was the 12km military zone between Ecuador and Colombia, as close as it's possible to get by public road.

We had passed an air-strip, which we later learned was a private airport, owned by a chinese enterprise. On our way, we had noticed much deforestation and settlement either side of the road. Most depressing, however, was the aged pipeline which ran the entire way with us, its discoloured, cracked surface a stark reminder of the large-scale destruction the oil business has wreaked on Ecuador's rainforest. No attempt is made to disguise the 30 year old pipe, propped up by often inadequate supports. It sags and bulges in places and I was later told that much oil leaks into the ground along its length. It's hard to understand why this monstrous conveyor of Ecuador's 'black gold' is not kept in repair, to at least prevent wastage, which in turn would prevent further unnecessary damage to the environment. I was told it would cost too much to repair, but this unsatisfactory answer fails on many levels - we hear constantly of the value of oil,and Ecuador's elite rich class is testimony to that, so surely the upkeep of the pipeline should be high priority?

We were now at the gateway to the Cuyabena river wildlife reserve. After registering at a small office, we boarded our canoe, a sturdy boat well capable of carrying ten people, their baggage and plenty of supplies for the lodge. There were, however, only the two of us bound for Samona lodge that day, and two Colombians who were headed for another jungle lodge on the river. Lodges are restricted in number in this protected area, and are few and far between.

Our canoe had an outboard motor which chugged us along gently in the muggy heat for over two hours. Although our guide was not with us - we would meet him at the lodge - there was a very knowledgeable man in charge. He spoke good English, though both Jan's and my Spanish is by now up to guided tours in that language. He pointed out several bird species, and identified monkey cries in the dense jungle to either side of the river. The water is a murky brown so it's not possible to see what lurks within. Huge kapok trees reach for the light, some covered by parasite strangler vines, while the river's edge is festooned with trailing aerial roots dipping well below the surface and conveying water up through each tree with maximum efficiency.

Every so often, something would turn in the battleship coloured brew - a fin or a limb, it was hard to say. The Cuyabena is home to freshwater dolphins,or Boto, as well as the world's biggest freshwater fish, the Arapaima, which can grow to 15 feet long. Then there is the enigmatic Manatee, (same species as the saltwater sea cow or dugong) http://usuarios.lycos.es/monte1/manati.htm, which lives throughout the Amazon river basin as well as in many of its tributaries. This species is the smallest of the sirenians, an order that includes all manatees and the dugong. The Amazonian manatee feeds on aquatic vegetation and vascular shore plants. It is preyed on by caiman and sometimes jaguar. Due to commercial hunting, now banned, Amazonian manatee populations have drastically declined. The Amazonian and African manatee's status is now officially vulnerable. We were lucky enough to see an Arapaima turning several times in the water, and the nose of a manatee appearing at intervals to breathe, at a deep bend of the river one morning, as well as two dolphins making a quick appearance above water. We saw many caiman (related to the crocodile) basking on the riverbank, or if we didn't see them in the dusk, we saw their eyes glowing red in the light of our guide's torch. Usually they shot forward into the water with a loud splash when they saw the boat approaching. There are piranha in the river too, which we saw up close when one of the guides caught one.

As you've probably realised by now, it's not really a river to take a refreshing dip in, so I was glad of our life jackets and the reassuring bulk of our canoe.

As we were still motoring down the main waterway, en route to our lodge, we weren't really prepared for what happened next. While passing a small mud bank, one of many, my eye was caught by a strange shape at the water's edge. Unmoving and very large, it took a while for me to realise what it was, and in the same moment the driver saw it and the motor was cut amidst hushed, excited exclamations.

It was a giant anaconda, the biggest water snake in the world, but there was something else - our temporary guide was apoplectic as he whispered "this anaconda is strangling a caiman". We didn't understand until we saw there was something wrapped inside the massive snake folds.

What we were witnessing was a silent life and death struggle. Now we saw part of the caiman between the anaconda's giant overlaps. This baby was a good 5 metres long with matching width - to give you an idea, it can swallow a caiman whole.

In his eagerness to aid our front row view, the driver let the boat drift too close, and the anaconda lost concentration, became anxious and loosened her grip. The caiman lost no time in pushing its advantage. The scene broke up in a flash, caiman shooting off unharmed in one direction and anaconda slithering into the muddy depths with astonishing speed. We were glad for the hitherto doomed caiman, yet sad for the foiled anaconda, a creature which, due to its geologically slow metabolism, eats on average once every two months, and which can go up to two years without food if need be. Kind, animal-loving friends of mine have since urged me to bring an anaconda home in my backpack, as they feel they would have use for its asphixiatory skills which would benefit both snake and afore-mentioned friends' immediate social circle. I feel it would be just too cruel. The anaconda would never survive. There are some things you just can't swallow.

I suppose it could be said that after this extraordinary introduction to Cuyabena, it was all a gentle downhill. None of the men had seen such an incident first-hand before. It didn't in any way, however, take from the next three days' adventures.

Our lodge was a circle of bamboo and straw huts, themselves circular. A wooden jetty leads up and into the 'village' from the river, which is the only route through the jungle. One of the huts is very big and houses an open-sided dining room with hammocks, in true Ecuadorian custom. Our room had an en-suite bathroom with shower and flush toilet! The water was tepid, which in the wet heat was all you needed, and every night a candle was lit in our room, as there was only generated electricity for part of the day. We slept under a huge mosquito net, and deeted up every day, before setting out on the river or into the forest.

Manola was a baby woolly monkey who had lost her mother to hunters, and had been brought back by one of the guides.

She was absolutely adorable, and loved to hold your finger while clinging tight to anyone who picked her up. She slept a lot, usually in one of the hammocks at her adoptive home in Samona. Melon and banana were her favourite foods. Having grown used to human company, she will probably remain a well-loved pet at the lodge.

Samona lodge is one of about 6 tourist centres in the Cuyabena reserve. Each lodge is miles from the next, as this huge rainforest waterway system is strictly protected and monitored. Only a certain number of boats can operate within its boundaries and speed is limited to an uninvasive putter on the laguna, a place of awesome beauty and tranquility. We had never experienced anything like the dawn visit to watch birds on the laguna.

Wreathed in mist, trees and islands loomed out of the stillness, as our canoe drifted past.

We saw many species of heron, kingfisher, stork, parokeet and hoatzin, among a myriad other birds.

We were very lucky to have Neiser Toro as our guide. A local man who grew up in Cuyabena, Neiser had been guiding from Samona for 8 years. There was very little he didn't know about the place, but the thing that really stood out about Neiser was his exuberant and completely infectious enthusiasm for every creature and plant he pointed out, undiminished after years in the field.

He also had the sharpest eyes and keenest ears imaginable, easily spotting and identifying precise species of birds from huge distances, when it was about all we could do to verify that there was indeed a bird there.

He knew particular branches favoured by tree boas, and the feeding place of the smallest monkey in the world, the pigmy marmoset. We saw a colony of these tiny monkeys, extraordinary living furry toys with the faces of ugly miniature lions.

In one day we saw, and heard, eight species of monkey: capochin, howler, squirrel, pigmy marmoset, woolly, rhesus, spider and sloth. The sapajou is there too, and the short-tailed, big-bellied and nocturnal monkeys, but we didn't get to see them. Without Neiser, we'd have been lucky to spot two of the above.

One memorable day, just four of us - Jan, myself, Arata (a Basque vet working in Lago Agrio) and Neiser - transferred from the big canoe to a small paddle canoe and took off down a narrow channel where the big canoe would not fit.

We paddled through reedy algae-laden waters, more like marshlands or small-scale everglades than the river or the laguna. There was an abundance of butterflies and dragonflies, and so many species of birds that we could hardly keep track.

Fish periodically leapt out of the water close to our boat. We went out on the sublime laguna, our favourite place, and floated through the lake forest, our oars dipping noiselessly in the shallow water. Out in the centre of the laguna it was possible to swim without fear of caimans, and some people in another boat did, but we...erm... declined, also being wary of certain water-borne parasites it's best I don't describe here.

It rained every day for two or three hours, even though this was the dry season. That's why it's called the rainforest. In the wet season, it rains torrentially for most of every day. We wore heavy rubber ponchos in the boat, which got just as wet inside as out. But at least it was a warm wet, as the rain could be surprisingly chilly when it was heavy.

We fitted so much into our three days, it would be difficult to record everything we learned at this wonderful lodge. It was a real education as well as a pleasure to get to know Neiser Toro, one of a growing number of Ecuadorians who realise that their country is unique, a hot-spot of bio-diversity contained within such short distances. Neiser is writing an educational text book on Cuyabena for local school children, something which is so encouraging to hear, as it is with this generation any hope for the future of endangered environments such as this lies.

But in all his years of exploring, spotting and guiding, Neiser has never seen.....

a fully-grown anaconda wrapped around a caiman.

Amazonas remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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That was pretty breathtaking - you could feel the icy wind sweeping down from its majestic flanks and across the plain and hills.

I got out at a hill town and caught an express bus on to Cuenca. The bus ride was scary in the extreme. The only consolation was you couldn´t see very far as we were in a cloud most of the time, but that meant the driver couldn´t either....whenever I raised my head to look out, we seemed to be on an extreme corner, with plastic tape on it, saying 'pericoloso' which means danger, and lots of little white crosses...which means others had gone over right there. I usually just put my head down again - I think all those bus rides to and from Quito to the reserve have steeled my response.

Cuenca is a really magnificent southern colonial town, where the Spanish left a beautiful legacy, although they pillaged most of the superb Inca treasures. There I lived for 10 days with a Cuencan family, and took spanish classes every day for five hours. I was so glad I decided to do this in Cuenca rather than squalid, sprawling, chokingly polluted Quito, which I had come to hate. Cuenca is completely different to quito, very old and the people are lovely, and very proud of the 'patrimonial status' of their town, which basically means it´s preserved, protected, listed, etc, and is Ecuador´s cultural centre. It is a noisy, bustling town, full of character and interest.

Part of our city tour was a visit to a Panama hat factory (a small artisan affair, not a commercial outfit really).
Did you know the Panama Hat is a Ecuadorian? It has always been made in Ecuador. What happened was that the workers constructing the Panama canal were being burnt by the sun, so they commissioned hundreds of hats from Ecuador. Then the name Panama stuck. Some of them are very fine and beautiful. They can take anything from 2 days to several months to make (all by hand) - it´s all in the finishing process. And they cost from $15 to $300. The fine ones feel like silk to the touch. No, I didn´t buy one...too much trawling around the world still to do.

I was in Cuenca for an extremely important day in the history (once again) of Ecuador. The 20th, that´s right, 20th constitution was signed in December by Rafael Correa, the rather dishy president of one year's duration now - presidents change here like the climate, so a year is long. Ecuador has a chequered past, specially in relation to its presidents.

Also, Alfaro´s remains (or part of them) were finally taken from where he had been buried in relative ignomy, and placed with full military honours in a new resting lugar, in Manabi, on the coast, now to be known as Ciudad Alfaro. He did more for Ecuador and its development in terms of human rights and womens´ issues than any president - did you know that Ecuador has had divorce since 1822? It´s unbelievable that a country which has so little in other ways, and which, like Ireland, has no legal abortion, and which is in thrall to the Roman Catholic church, also like Ireland for so long (and which has had wars with its neighbour, Peru, for centuries, also like Ireland and England's history). There are many similarities, but far, far more corruption here - it´s extraordinary, but so interesting. There is very little here that can´t be solved with dinero.....or, as it´s called 'a little something for a cola'.
Passed into the right hands, it can get you what you need. The oil and banana barons of Ecuador do very nicely, as evidenced by the glitzy new shopping malls springing up in Quito, and the gleaming SUVs parked outside their designer-shop doors. Come to think of it, maybe Ecuador is not so very different to Ireland in this way either...

]

I enjoyed my time in Cuenca, living with Eulalia, Victor and their three college-going girls. The house was busy and cheerful, and I was made to feel right at home. Conversation (en espanol, por sopuesta) was plentiful and mutually interesting, as we exchanged information about our countries and lifestyles. The Benitez family were typically hot-blooded Ecuadorians, and I enjoyed listening to Lala going off on a rant when something annoyed her (usually to do with Cuencan administration). On the 1st of December, she started to decorate the house for christmas (so refreshing for someone who hails from a country where the commercial hype starts up in October, and Ecuador is a Catholic country too!). Lala was very talented, and had made some beautiful paper mache saints and other seasonal figures to decorate her home with.

My stay in Cuenca was over all too quickly and, armed with marginally better spanish, I continued my route south to Vilcabamba, almost at the very bottom of Ecuador, still following the Andean way.

Ecuador's Colonial gem remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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For many weeks I had been planning to visit the Black Sheep Inn (BSI). This oft-mentioned hostel is on the backpackers' trail south of Cotopaxi, round the supremely beautiful Quilatoa loop. The Black Sheep Inn is a fairly expensive place to stay in, by Ecuadorian standards, but there are cheap bunkrooms too. For an experience which made a very deep impression on me, not to mention the great organic food; friendly communal atmosphere; tactile natural building materials in the imaginatively laid-out and situated rooms and sauna; and of course the stunning location, it was more than worth the extra dollars. I stayed two nights and met some interesting people. I chatted a lot to Andres and Michelle, the U.S. owner managers who have a total hands-on approach to running the BSI, essentially sharing their home and their vision with many travellers.

Rather than writing a second-hand explanation of Andres' and Michelle's philosophy and goals (many of which they have achieved in the 13 years they've lived in Chugchilan), I'll quote from their beautifully printed-out signs and documents. which are used all round the property so that guests are fully informed about all they see and eat. I use quote marks whenever I am relaying their words. They happened upon Chugchilan while backpacking in 1993. They stayed with a family, as there was no hotel in the area, and fell in love with the place. They didn't want to leave, and were blown away when a local farmer offered to sell them a sizable chunk of land. I continue in Michelle and Andy's own words:

"We had to ask ourselves if this was a dream come true - an opportunity we could not pass by. Here in the heart of the Andes, we could tread lightly and live sustainably. We could own our work. We could create a home and realize our ideals: organic gardens, happy animals, ecological toilets, recycled waste, wastewater systems caring for the earth and fostering our talents. Here we could have the freedom to be creative, to experiment and to learn from our mistakes"

"The idea of the Black Sheep Inn was born in 1993. The name was created before the place. We chose The Black Sheep Inn & La Posada Oveja Negra because everybody recognises the symbol of the black sheep, because it sounds great in every language, because there are many sheep in the area and because many world travellers, like us, are 'black sheep' that have strayed far from the flock. We welcome the Black Sheep of the world!"

So Michelle and Andy returned to the U.S., each working three jobs until they had sufficient earnings to return in October 1994, purchasing the land in April 1995. The first guests were received in 1996. They write "BSI is a work in progress. We strive to improve the facilities and nurture the land. We've designed buildings using permaculture ideas, building with materials and renewable resources such as adobe and straw, with local labour. We harvest rainwater and humanure (abono turistico) (!). We have and continue to reforest our property with native trees in terraced rows called swales, and we involve ourselves with the community in the most positive ways we think possible. Every day we learn more from the land, the neighbours, the animals and the guests. We try to live in harmony with and respect our surroundings. We welcome comments and suggestions."

BSI's Famous Composting Toilets

"The most popular question asked about eco-friendliness is on the subject of the composting toilets (and somehow the topic always becomes dinner conversation!). The toilets work wonderfully. The developed world thinks it's normal to defecate in a toilet bowl filled with clean water, while many people in the third world still 'poop' in the fields and walk miles for potable water. In order to bridge the gap between two very distinct norms, we built composting toilets that are attractive, educational and productive."

All toilets take advantage of spectacular views across the canyon.

Inside the rooms are beneficial flower/vegetable gardens fertilized with finished compost from the toilet.

"Roofs are transparent, allowing natural light for the bathroom and gardens. Roofs also funnel rainwater to small tanks used for handwashing. Using biodegradable hand soap, waste water from the sink irrigates interior gardens/ The book 'The Toilet Papers' by Sim van der Ryn explains the design and process of the composting toilet"

"The condensation that accumulates around the seat overnight is proof that waste is heating up (thermophillic) and decomposing. Faeces and urine are extremely nitrogen rich - in order to balance the mixture, we add 'dry stuff' with every use. This is a mix of sawdust and pods from the cultivated lupin (chochos) which are high in carbon content. A good ratio is 30 parts carbon to 1 part nitrogen. That's a lot of dry stuff!"

"The dry stuff is the 'flush' and helps keep insects and odour at a minimum. We also add kitchen scraps. (BSI is a vegetarian inn). Occasionally the toilet smells of ammonia, which means we are not adding enough carbon. The recipe is actually simple and the toilet needs very little monitoring. The finished 'humanure' is used when we plant a tree or shrub, and eventually in the vegetable garden. It's a high nutrient fertilizer that helps everything grow."

This document goes on to describe permaculture and how BSI is becoming a permaculture demonstration site, with the dry composting toilets, recycling systems for grey water ane recycling of plastic, metal, paper and glass. Over 800 native trees have been planted in terraced swales so far, and all gardens are fully organic. There is a combination greenhouse/chicken house in keeping with BSI's permaculture ideals. In 1998, Andy and Michelle sponsored a two week permaculture design course for their neighbours, closing the BSI during this time. Their document includes a useful definition of permaculture (which one of the volunteers I worked with at La Hesperia introduced to the management of the vegetable garden there also):

'Permaculture (permanent agriculture) is the conscious design and maintenance of agriculturally productive ecosystems which have the diversity, stability and resilience of natural ecosystems. It is the harmonious integration of landscape and people, providing their food, energy, shelter and other material and non-material needs in a sustainable way'. This is a quote from Bill Mollison, an Australian who co-founded the permaculture movement.

Andres and Michelle have also been working with local county governments in Ecuador to start environmental education in the schools.

"Further eco-awarness at the Black Sheep Inn includes the recycling of wine and liquor bottles by building 'bottle walls'. The (wonderful) sauna, bunkhouse shower and upper bathrooms are examples of this eco-architecture. The hardest part of building a bottle wall is all the drinking you have to do first.... Large plastic containers are re-used as planters or to store milk and water. Paper makes a good mulch for the gardens as well as an alternative non-toxic window and mirror cleaner. Food scraps are composted or fed to animals (BSI has 3 huge adorable dogs) as well as chickens, guinea pigs and goats."

In 2005, Andy was elected 'King of Garbage' by Chugchilan. He is working with public officials and has purchased a small property to use as a separate facility, tree nursery and mini-landfill.
See www.EcoClub.com for information about BSI's 2006 Ecolodge Award for building a community recycling centre.

BSI manages water from four sources with admirable efficiency and zero waste. In fact there was no running water in Chugchilan until Andres and Michelle made it possible with their expertise. They use on average 2000 litres of water daily for the entire hotel. They have built ponds to increase biodiversity and to retain water on the property.

"Because of the dry composting toilets, there is no 'black water' produced at BSI. Grey water is much easier to treat and re-use. All water from showers, sinks, laundry etc is recycled. It is collected in a settling tank and put through a charcoal/rock filter system. The filtered water is then channeled through a reed bed for further nutrient absorption.The reeds produce fodder for guinea pigs, llamas and sheep. There are two 85 watt solar panels that directly power(without batteries) a shurflo submersible pump mounted on the bottom of a raft in the main pond. Even on cloudy days the pump pushes pond water over 200 feet up the hill to a reserve tank for irrigating the organic gardens. This pump also powers a 'fountain of youth' and a (very scary) 'waterslide of death' (down the hill, into the big pond, only for the brave or foolhardy! hr).
See the BSI design for a complete Alternative Energy System at http://www.blacksheepinn.com/HybridSolarWindDesign.htm"

Organic gardens
"It is safe to eat salads at BSI" (something which is music to the ears after months of avoiding raw food in Sth America, unless personally prepared). "The terraced gardens are fertilized with animal manure and compost/red worm castings/ Plagues and insects are combatted with natural remedies such as aji (red hot chili peppers), garlic and tobacco sprays. Predatory insect repelling species (nasturtium, chamomile, cultivated lupine, calendula etc) are planted around the gardens. Inter-cropping and companion planting are continuously experimented with in true permacultural method. The greenhouse allows for warm weather vegetable production. also providing shelter and warmth for the chickens at night. The greenhouse is heated by passive solar power. 150 gallons of water are used along with think adobe walls for thermal mass. The chickens also produce heat during the night, and lay eggs first thing in the morning."

"All vegetables served in the kitchen are treated with concentrated ozone and a natural disinfectant made from grapefruit extract to kill bacteria. BSI's kitchen is safe for the most delicate of digestions. One of the goals of BSI is to increase onsite sustainable food production."

Energy conservation
"We only use compact fluorescent lightbulbs at BSI. Conserving energy is the first step towards converting to solar and wind power. In 1994, when we purchased the property, we were already connected to the electrical grid. Our goal is to get off the grid and showcase alternative energy technologies".
(note: as I write this entry, I am in rural Nepal, where 'load-shedding' (ie. powercuts) takes place for 8 hours of every day, country-wide, due to massive overloading of the supply. Many Kathmandu homes have invested in solar panels for water-heating, but how wonderful BSI's methods would be, transported halfway around the world. I hand write this entry by candlelight, in preparation for when I can next access a computer, outside of load-shedding hours - hr)

Tree planting, reforestation & forestation at The Black Sheep Inn
"When challenged by choices of how to manage our property, we found that our problems often became our solutions. Terracing can control erosion. All over the property we dug swales (water filtration ditches built along the contours of the land) and planted the lower side of them with native trees, bushes and shrubs. The purpose of these trenches/swales is to prevent erosion and water run-off inevitable on steep slopes. Trees are planted on the bottom side of the trenches so that the root systems help to hold the swales in place while 'drinking' the water that collects in the trench. Leaves and branches which fall into the swales provide valuable organic material and help build up and create soil. The Incas terraced with rocks because they had them in abundance."

"The most common native trees planted at BSI are:
Capuli (Prunus serotina); Quishuar (Buddleia Incana); Samil (Rapanea Dependens); Yagual (Polylepes Incana); Pumamaqui (Orreopaanax spp); Racemosa (Polylepis Racemosa).
These have been interspersed with a few pine and cypress as well as Alder (Aliso), Black Walnut (Nogal) and Broom (Retana). We also have young fruit trees: apple, pear, tamarillo (tree tomato) and Black Cherry. We are experimenting with planting sub-tropical trees in microclimates, such as avocado, papaya, lime, tangerine and passion fruit."

Of particular interest is the next section from the BSI documents, especially to those of us who have noticed that Eucalyptus is an invasive tree which is making an appearance all over the planet, from its native Australia to Asia to Europe to North, South and Central America.
"The Eucalyptus trees which dominate the region were introduced to Ecuador in the late 1800s from Australia. We use Eucalyptus for construction and for firewood. We do not reforest with Eucalyptus. It can be invasive, taking over large tracts of land. It grows back like a weed from the same stump and seeds itself very easily. Eucalyptus leaves are highly acidic, damaging soils around the tree's base for years after it is gone. They also have long shallow roots that suck up all the water surrounding the tree. For these reasons, Eucalyptus makes good firewood that burns without much creosote build-up."

I could write a lot more about Andres and Michelle's life work in Chugchilan, but I think I've given some idea of the extraordinary and exciting challenge they set themselves 13 years ago. A place like The Black Sheep Inn is a lesson to us all, especially to those of us who want to 'tread lightly' and live sustainably, but cannot see our way to getting out of the system. Michelle and Andres started by jumping so far ahead of a virtually non-existent system that perhaps in one way their choice of underdeveloped location was an advantage. They are now ECO certified by the Ecuadorian Ministry of Tourism and Ecuadorian Ecotourism Society as an Ecological Hotel. In 2006 they won an Ecolodge Award.

Horse-riding (sort-of) above the BSI

I include the BSI's mission statement and vision:
"Black Sheep Inn aims to provide a comfortable, educational experience for guests, informing them about the local area, local customs and permaculture, while contributing to and improving the local community and the natural environment. Our goal is to be a leader in environmental stability and ecotourism. When guests first arrive and walk up our driveway, our goal is to surpass their expectations." (They not only surpassed mine, they made a life-long impression on me - hr)

Land, people and culture
"Historically, people and the land they live on are inherently tied together. Native american tradition believes that people cannot own land; in fact they believe the earth owns the people who temporarily live upon it. When starting BSI, it was the first time in our lives we owned property. We knew that we must care for the land if we wanted it to sustain us."

"We believe it is important for people to maintain a connection to the planet that sustains them; to know where the foods they are eating come from; to value the resources they are consuming; to appreciate the different foods, art, music, buildings and ways of life around the world."

"Everyone on earth lives in some type of community. The particular community and world we live in sustains us and therefore we must sustain them. We are neither fanatics nor purists, yet we have become conservationists. We respect our community and the earth. We choose to tread lightly whenever possible."

To be clear about the criteria ecologically aware travellers should look for in hotels and other places claiming to be eco operations, Andy and Michelle have listed five facets which they feel represent true efforts at being ecological:
1) Conservation
2) Low impact or 'Green' hotels
3) Sustainability
4) Meaningful community involvement
5) Environmental education and interpretation

Some readers may be interested to know that BSI welcomes volunteers to live and work at the inn.
www.blacksheepinn.com

I finish this entry with a piece of advice from the inspired creators of The Black Sheep Inn, Chugchilan, Ecuador:
"We've only got one world: care for it. Tourist - Be Aware."

The Black Sheep of Chugchilan remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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They had planned to mountain bike down from the 'refuge' at the base of Cotopaxi, and this seemed like an attractive prospect to me, as I clocked up a lot of extreme cycling back in the days...
Bicycles secured on the roof, we drove on the panamerican highway to Cotopaxi national park, a fairly barren area of protected land, thinly forested in places, and very cold and windy.

The temperature dropped further as the jeep climbed towards the refuge carpark. The refuge is a small cafe and resting place for those intrepid trekkers who want to brave it to the dormant volcano's summit, a challenge which requires some experience and a good level of fitness.

The carpark itself is a good 30 minutes hike below the refuge. We saw an old photo of the hut and were interested to note that the glacier reached well below the refuge some 35 years ago. Now the refuge sits on clear ground, the glacier only beginning quite far above it.

When we got out of the jeep I had second thoughts about cycling down. The 4,800 metre altitude combined with a ferocious wind made standing, breathing and keeping the blood circulating a task in itself.

Mark was not well, so he opted out and kindly lent me his alaskan thermal undergloves plus an extra fleece. By the time I was kitted out, I was wearing a wool undershirt, 3 thermal sweatshirts and a goretex jacket; leggings under my jeans; two pairs of wool socks; two pairs of gloves; a fleece hat under my helmet, and elbow and knee pads. But I still couldn't feel the handlebars.

Jonathan, a heavy-set guy, charged off down the steep slope while I flapped around, trying desperately to sit on my saddle while the entire back end of the bike was continuously whipped into the air by the vicious wind. Eventually I managed to weigh it down and set off, wobbling and veering wildly as the huge gusts played havoc with me. The excercise was not aided by the surface of the ground, a nasty, gritty path which would, I knew, prove lethal if I skidded off. Jon chivalrously waited for me once, enabling this misleading depiction of me careening down Cotopaxi ahead of him!

Gradually I got the hang of it, but corners were treacherous, especially if we were turning into the wind and there was a jeep, or worse, a bus coming up. By this time my hands, arms and legs were numb, even though the temperature was rising and the wind dropping as we descended towards the small lake.

Mark was so encouraged by the sight of us apparently having a whale of a time that he got out, kitted up and tried a stretch or two before deciding that he wasn't well enough after all. We made it to the lake without falling off. I felt quite shaky but fairly proud of myself, having never attempted anything quite so thrilling in all my years of cycling around Europe.

We went for a well-deserved lunch in a beautiful hacienda which dated from the 19th century.

It had its own chapel, to one side of a tranquil, cloistered garden.

After this we continued on to the famous Quilatoa loop, without doubt one of the most stunning areas I've seen in Ecuador, or the world.

After spending the night in a friendly family-run posada where I rode a llama(!)
we drove to the Quilatoa crater, an extinct volcano which is filled with acidic aquamarine-coloured water. There is no life in the lake. The cutting wind was again a feature, making it difficult to stay long to admire the incredible view.

Some years ago, a local lad fell 300 feet into the crater after some late-night revellry. His body was never found - only his shoes.

I parted from Mark and Jonathan at the lake and got a lift onwards around the loop with a friend of our driver. This man was taking an american woman to Chugchilan, the tiny village where I was headed - 20 km of slow, rocky, sometimes tortuous road in a surreal landscape which bears the scars of an earthquake.

The charge for this transport?
A dollar.

Cotopaxi remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Kenneth Williams Llama

'Psst....'

'Que bonita!'

Churned up earth, Chimborazo region
I took the famous 'devil's nose' train from Riobamba (the name is a mixture of Castellano and Quechua, from 'Rio', river, and 'bamba', the Quechua word for 'plain'). The ancient train rattled and ground along the slowly ascending track south. It was freezing on board, and the temperature dropped steadily as we climbed higher. We passed Chimborazo, the highest volcano in Ecuador.

The word 'majestic' seems ordinary in comparison to the awe-inspiring sight of the mountain, whose icy winds sweep down on the town of Riobamba. From my carriage, I saw much of the landscape and the lifestyle of the people unfolded before me. Train travel is a wonderful thing - you feel you are right inside the countryside, that you are privy to secrets the road does not yield. People always stop what they are doing and acknowledge the passing of a train, particularly an old, slow train like this one. Some lean on their tools and just watch; others wave or nod and smile; children always race alongside for as long as they can, hoping for a treat thrown from the window. There was a man on board, selling sweets and lollies for that precise purpose. I was not immune to the pleading little faces, dirt and snot streaked across their mouths and noses, raggedly dressed but full of life and joy. Lollies were purchased, and lollies doled out...
Elderly couple, Chimborazo - these people are hardy and healthy - happiness is in their eyes


This little girl was hanging fiercely onto a lolly I gave her

This girl mother was no more than 15

The patchwork land

A face of character

No dentists here

The train went by a busy station, set up deliberately as a market for tourists. I stayed on board, preferring to take pictures from my open window than experience further wheedling to buy the local artisans´products. You need a will of iron in order to cruise a line of stalls and not succomb to the selling skills of the indigenous women. To engage at all is fatal - consider it sold. So I stayed where I was and caught some faces in the crowds.

Three different styles of dress. meaning three different tribes, but they all speak the same language..

This hat is made of boiled wool, placed on a mould and the damp felt beaten to its bowler shape

The colours and shapes vary from community to community, but the basics for women are skirts to the knee or long, ornate blouses, heavy wool shawls, fastened in front with a pin, and of course, a felt hat

The Caparina indian men of the Quichua speaking communities of the Chimborazo region south of Riobamba wear red ponchos and wool hats. They look fantastic

This stunning baby was being carried on the strong back of his mother, who wasn´t slow to ask for a dollar in return for a picture. The people make a business out of photo opportunities from snap-happy tourists, be it with their babies, a colourfully decked-out llama or even a black lamb. And who can blame them?

These huts on the high sierra of the Quilotoa loop look like haystacks from behind - the door is on the side most sheltered from the relentless wind

These children appeared out of nowhere - they seemed to be made of the grass itself. The tiny girl was adorable, like a doll. She smiled hard for the camera, knowing a 'propino' was forthcoming

We stopped in a village, where I visited the oldest church in Ecuador. It had beautifully carved doors, depicting saints and stories, and cloistered gardens with stunning plants. The village itself was an oasis of calm, the evening sun warming the white walls of the houses.

Finally I left the train and caught a bus further south towards Cuenca, my destination. However, the mountain roads in the Andes are littered with uncertainties...

An everyday occurence in Ecuador. A large pipe was being laid in the middle of the day - it took an hour and a half to clear the road. We got out and hiked till the driver caught up with us

The following day I found myself in a jeep travelling across the high terrain of the Sierra, that vast area between either side of the double ridge of the Andes, the backbone of South America. Here the wind was bitingly cruel, despite the enticing play of light and shadow on the coloured landscape. I kept asking the driver to stop, so that I could get out and breathe in the astonishing quality of the air, the wind, the light which came and went, changed and played with the undulating land, stretching away into distant shapes. Of all the places I´d been, this was the most moving in a way I can hardly explain - it was a magical place.

This mountain on the Quilotoa loop is known as the sugar loaf, and is revered by the local people

Faces and places of Ecuador remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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When I arrived at La Hesperia in September, the end of November seemed very far away - in fact I almost wondered if I had made the right decision when I chose to stay for 10 weeks. It ended up being 9, because I wanted to stay a week in the beautiful colonial town of Cuenca, taking spanish classes in a very good school there. But right from the start I had loved my temporary home, and as the weeks went gently by like the clouds drifting through the treescape outside my bedroom, I felt great sadness that my time was coming to an end in this extraordinary corner of the world, where time really stands still, and the landscape is constantly alive with the sounds of birds and insects.

Tree beard

Our veggie garden at La Hesperia

My last weeks in the reserve were tranquil, as my neck was acting up. I had elected to take over the medicinal garden after Marissa, my Californian friend, left. She was concerned that it would be cared for, after the weeks of nurturing she had put into the beds and the compost, and the research she had done on the plants themselves, in preparation for a new system of signs.

So I had a project, which is something I enjoy, and, armed with Marissa's scraps of paper, I set about creating a logbook for the medicinal garden, with a map, lists of the plants' names, an updated diary of work carried out and future plans for the garden. With the help of a small team of volunteers, the beds were thoroughly weeded, the compost turned, a new pile made (I did love following the cows and the horses, to collect both dry and 'fresh' manure - picture that: me in the fields with my shovel and my sacks, being watched blankly by a herd of heifers), and the many empty places in the beds were filled with transplants from other sections of the garden. It was time to begin work on the new signs. These were to be hand 'crafted' (I use the term advisedly) from the only colours available in the work yard: white, red and yellow. Obviously, these 3 colours can combine to make other shades, but sadly, we had no blue. Still, I think we did ok.

Once we were started, there was no stopping us - inspiration flowed, and the medicinal garden became fondly referred to as the medicinal 'gallery' for over a week, with the 'artists' working overtime every day.

Even the garden's permanent resident seemed to approve.

So, on my watch, the med garden was completed. It was a satisfying feeling - I even got Raul to cut the grass! Future ideas for the garden include a bench under the cypress tree, as it really is a calm and restful place.

For my last few days, I resumed everyday work in the nursery.

The nursery, or vivero, is fundamental to the main object at La Hesperia: it is here we bring the collected seeds from the forest; here we plant the seeds in beds or in small bags, here the seedlings are planted on into bigger bags and brought on; and here the saplings are eventually transplanted to carefully chosen sites, or 'lineas' (reforestation lines) around the reserve.

Chris working in the vivero

The areas we are replanting were once used as a sugar cane plantation, and are therefore 'secondary cloud forest', ie. terrain that was deforested and reforested (an ongoing process in many parts of the reserve). The wonderful and increasingly unique thing about La Hesperia is that it comprises a significant amount of primary cloud forest, ie. virgin forest that has never been touched by the destructive force of the human hand and is vital to the survival of thousands of species of animal, insect and bird and plant.

Caterpillar chain

This forest is so dense and unknown that we never venture into it, for to do that would be to destroy parts of it. The old Yumba and Inca trails, which are still used today, avoid going into the real depths of the upper reaches of the cloud forest, following the ridge of the reserve only.

The percentage of primary cloud forest left in South America

But there is hope..

Meanwhile, there were many events which stand out in my memory of my last weeks at La Hesperia. We had another 'tremblor' - a stronger earth tremor than the first one I experienced. It happened on the same night as the Chile earthquake which measured 7.4 on the Richter scale, but apparently it was unrelated. I was in bed again as it was late, and this time it was as if somebody was shaking my bed quite roughly; the door latch rattled loudly and the volunteer house shook. This lasted for less than a minute, but was pretty scary.

Then Izaskun, Chris and I found a snake in one of the toilets when we were cleaning the bathrooms. She was hidden in the door frame, seeking out a dark corner - her markings were beautiful and she was small. As to whether she was venomous, the jury remains out - many smaller snakes are more poisonous than the big ones, but it seems that the shape of the head is an important factor when identifying a poisonous species.

I of course felt the need to help the little creature find her way back to the safety of the undergrowth (remember, our bathrooms are outdoors), so, ignoring some bizarre advice to kill the snake (even if I´d wanted to, I couldn´t help wondering, with what?), I herded her towards the scrub with a brush handle.

She was pretty quick - she was terrified of course - and after some further coaxing from under the sinks she slithered off into the greenery, accompanied by the screams of my wussy companions, who were not helping combat the reputation we women have when it comes to creeping, crawling things.

There were spiders too, some small, some really huge, although not as big as I think we will see in the rainforest. I had a small red spider friend who lived above my bed - I often wondered if she would try to drop in on me, but my net would have got in the way. But she was content in her own little net, and lived happily in her web for my entire time at the reserve. I liked to see her there, spinning away and catching the little flies she loved and I hated.

However, some spiders were more impressive in their appearance - I did find one about this size under my pillow one night, and was thankful I had made that last minute torch-check.

She has quite large eyes and antennae - her torso is almost the size of a matchbox and her legs longer than our fingers

I often found Tarantula spiders when I was working in the soil, proving the point about wearing gloves (and rubber boots) at all times. They are shy, nocturnal creatures and like to snooze in warm cavities in the earth, so any digging would invariably dislodge one or two. They would scurry off as fast as they could, terrified. Again, our Tarantulas were small in comparison to those found in the Amazon, where they can grow to giant proportions.

I also had a bat who lived in the wall above my bed. The most unfortunate part of this arrangement was the havoc wreaked on my clothes and net by his droppings, which look almost identical to mouse droppings - you´d just find yourself wondering how a mouse could run so far up the wall, where my clothes hung. But I grew to enjoy the nightly visits, where our bat friend went several laps of the room, often hanging out on top of our nets awhile..

I suppose life on the reserve is not for the faint of heart. There were volunteers there who had a mortal fear of snakes and spiders, but they were there to confront these fears, which I thought admirable.

But there are so many things I will miss.

Pacific Hornerids:cheeky birds who make the most awful racket


Huge tree with trailing vines

The first sugar plantation tractor, now a nesting place for wrens

Lace moth

No really, it´s a moth

Giant cicada (see matchbox below)

I have loved my time here; have felt privileged to be part of this sublime place; have learnt so much and met so many wonderful people, who will be friends for life; but that time is over and it is time for me to move on.

Primary cloud forest, La Hesperia

Moving on remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Some of the rock descents were only 15 feet or so, and for these we used a simple knotted rope without a harness. This was a little scary at first, but there were footholds and our arms had become pretty strong from weeks of tough labour on the reserve. We also had to scale UP rock faces - an unexpected element of the morning´s hike. Raul appeared to run up the bare face of the rock without any support whatsoever, tied the rope to a tree or around a rock at the top, and up we went towards his waiting hands! No harness here either, but Ceri was below, shoving us up as far as his long arms would allow, and the knots, which were at regular intervals on the rope, were perfect aids in our ascent, along with the natural footholds on the rockface. It had to be said that wellies were not the best footwear here, but we needed them for the river walking parts of the hike. Ceri was happy, as he said it was the only opportunity he got to feel everyone´s ass...

But, however enjoyable the rappelling itself was, the highlight of the hike for me was something completely different, which we were lucky enough to see: halfway down the biggest cascade, Raul spotted an alcove in the cliff-face opposite. He pointed it out to us, and with enormous excitement we realised that the dinosaur-sized branches which were carefully placed on the ledge were in fact a nest: it was the nest of a barred hawk! It was very hard to get a good photo of the baleful chick, sitting in solitary splendour on its giant structure, but we tried with our zooms..

The noise of the crashing water was so great that we hardly heard another sound - the anxious screams of the parents overhead, as they watched this strange and threatening procession of aliens descending past their impassive fluffball, who seemed less put out than they.

We moved on as quickly as we could, but even so, getting 14 people down the fall took an hour, and the parents were very agitated. Raul was thrilled because he said it was the first time a chick had been located on the reserve with both parents evident. This would go down in La Hesperia wildlife records.

Raul, happy with his discovery, takes a well-earned rest after his morning's exertions

Rappelling the cascades remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Halfway up the steep cobbled path to La Hesperia from the village of La Esperie on the Santo Domingo highway, a small coffee plantation nestles beneath the graceful shade of some banana trees.

The banana trees produce an extraordinary 'flower' along with the fruit

The enormous leathery banana leaves wave gently above the coffee plants like the swaying ears of adult elephants protecting their young. It´s a good combination.

I had never seen coffee growing before, so I was happy when one of the daily jobs allotted after breakfast was to pick the dark red, ripe berries, bring them up to the hacienda and harvest the fresh beans inside.
Coffee beans ripening

The beans are very pale and wrapped in a thin protective membrane, or 'cascara', like the skin of a peanut once it has been shelled. The beans, in their protective layers, are left for up to a week to dry in the sun. If there´s a lot of rain, this can take longer. We picked some cocoa beans as well, which would be made into chocolate at a later stage.
Cocoa beans

When the time came to de-husk and roast the coffee beans, it was written up as one of the day´s jobs and I was quick to volunteer. What a delight! A whole morning ahead of me, hand-processing our own coffee!

The job of de-husking was fiddly and delicate. Lola, our cook and wife of Raul, the head worker on the reserve, showed me how to use an antiquated mill, or grinder; the kind of contraption I remember my grandmother using to make marmalade.

It was difficult to get the measure of - if the wings were too tight, I crushed the precious beans prematurely; if they were too loose, it was completely ineffective, allowing the beans through, still in their thin coats. I ended up finishing the job with my hands and would probably have been better off doing it this way from the outset. I blew the husks off as they came away, eventually leaving me with a bowl of fresh, pale coffee beans.
Coffee bean husks
Coffee beans, fresh

Now came the enjoyable part. I poured the beans into a dry pan and 'toasted' them for over an hour on our ancient outdoor gas stove. The aroma was divine and it was a pleasure to watch the beans slowly darkening to a familiar and unmistakeable rich shade of brown.


Every so often, Lolita would come out to check on me, as it would surely have been a shame to have the tiny but valuable crop burnt to ashes. After some seventy minutes, she pronounced the process 'termine' and the coffee 'listo'.

I admit to a certain small amount of pride at breakfast the following morning when 'my' coffee was served up in a steaming pot. Ah, the small pleasures of life...

Coffee remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We explored the little town, but it's a small place, and was very quiet at this time.

There were some stalls and shops still selling tourist items like beaded jewellery and flip-flops, but it was a little dodgy for the women in our group to walk around alone after dark, so we mostly kept to our privileged sandy cage, where there was a security man on duty through the night. This is fairly normal in Ecuador, specially in Quito, where there are armed security men on most street corners and outside cafes and bars in the Mariscal, which is the 'gringo' part of the city.

Cañoa remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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As our bus struggled along the steep mountain road, another bend brought a collective gasp from the passengers on the right. Tungurahua appeared in perfect clarity, the only clouds present the hot ash smoke belching from her active cavity, or caldera. This spectacular sight is such a rarity that even the locals on board were pointing and exclaiming excitedly. The bus trundled on and Tungurahua disappeared from view in the vertiginous landscape.

The volcano is not visible from the town itself. A small, bustling resort, Baños is in a valley already at an altitude of c.1,500m. It is surrounded by mountains, with Tungurahua rising behind these to over 5,000m.

The following day, we hiked up to Run Tun, a mountain village which boasts a 'mirador del vulcan'; a viewpoint for Tungurahua. Although at first the weather looked promising, as time went by the sky darkened, and we were less hopeful of a clear sighting up close. The climb was hard work and of course the signs for the mirador changed constantly (friends reading this will remember a certain evasive town in west waterford when the need to arrive there was fairly pressing). Eventually we stopped to have our picnic and to shelter from the rain, now coming down straight from a heavy sky. We had come out onto a deserted road and there we found a strange little bus shelter. We ate simple and delicious local fruit and cheese - they say hunger is the best sauce. When we had finished, and were debating whether to persevere or turn back, there was the sound of an approaching car. This turned out to be a local taxi, dropping a family home from the market in Baños. He came back and we agreed a price for bringing us up to the mirador, and dropping us back into town. Needless to say, the viewpoint was easily another 2 miles, so it was a happy event for us.

As we walked up the final slope to the top of the mountain, some Ecuadorian tourists were coming down. They were disappointed; they told us there was no view to be had, the vulcan was totally obscured. We couldn't understand why this seemingly gentle hill was such a struggle to climb; it was like wading up through mercury. Our by now friend, the taxi driver, explained it was the altitude that caused this problem. We were probably almost back at Quito altitude at this stage, some 2.500m or so. Eventually we reached the top and found ourselves in a pleasant field, where we were greeted by its owner, who had built a wonderful tree house at the edge of the incredibly steep valley opposite Tungurahua.


The volcano was not to be seen. Undaunted, we climbed the tree anyway, not that it would afford any better a vista even if there were one - the entire field was ideally located for front row seats at Mama Tungurahua's showing (she is affectionately referred to by this name in Ecuador; Cotopaxi is of course 'hombre' and there is an old legend about the two volcanos). We stood and looked at the valley, at the mountains, and as if by magic, the clouds cleared and this is what we saw....


Words cannot describe the feelings of awe and humility inspired by being so close to a live mountain of this stature.
And well-being..

So, I won't try. The pictures will give some idea at least.

We were well-rewarded for such persistance and a long hard climb. That night we soaked in the volcanic mineral baths by the waterfall at the edge of the town, soothing our aching limbs and healing our many insect bites. It was an experience I will long remember, floating in the hot pool, surrounded by Ecuadorian families, socialising and hanging out together, before plunging into the cold pool to close the pores.

The following day we cycled the length of the 'ruta de las cascades'; some 20k or so, and visited the famous 'Pailon del Diablo', a fall of extraordinary power in a channel smoothed out from lava.

El Vulcan Tungurahua remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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With all this in mind, I thought I might put down some facts about this beautiful and unpredicable country and its cloud forests. The problems which exist in Ecuador, environmental and social-political, I will write about another time soon.

Ecuador straddles the northern and southern hemisphere. Bordering Columbia, Peru and the Pacific ocean, it covers Amazon, highland, coast and the Galapagos Islands. Ecuador is a multiethnic, multicultural nation with a population of 13 million, comprising 14 indigenous groups. It is one of the 17 megadiverse countries in the world, its extreme geographical and climatic variations facilitating the evolution of thousands of species of flora and fauna.

Eduador has 10% of the world's plant species (25,000 species of trees); c.8% of the world's animals and 18% of the planet's birds (c.1,640 bird species, 4,500 species of butterfly, 350 species of reptiles, 375 species of amphibeans, 1,550 species of mammals, 800 species of fresh water fish and 450 of salt water fish). The country has 46 ecosystems, from sea level to 6,400 metres in a total area of 256,370 km sq. Despite its tiny size, Ecuador is home to rain forest, cloud forest, mountains, islands, deserts, valleys and snow-capped volcanos.

La Hesperia is in the western range of the Andes at an altitude of 1,100 to 2,040 metres: 814 hectares in the middle of the Rio Toachi - Chiriboaga, an IBA (important bird area) and is part of two important bio-regions: the tropical Andes and the Choco Darien of Western Ecuador, one of the top five bio-diverse hotspots on earth.



La Hesperia contains three types of forest: pre-montane evergreen, low montane and high montane (cloud forest). The reserve is home to 287 species of birds; 40 mammal species; 63 butterfly genera; and a huge diversity of epiphyte plants. Several species of endangered trees are reproduced in the nursery here. In Tropical Montane Cloud Forest (TMCF) clouds cover the vegetation most of the year round, enabling it to capture moisture (horizontal precipitation). This phenomenon allows the forest to flourish even in the dry season.


In TMCFs and their surrounding area, horizontal rain provides up to 50% of the water for the hydrological cycle that humans, animals and vegetation depend on. Ecuador's TMCF has an altitude range of 1,400-3,500m. Its enveloping cloud reduces solar radiation and vapour deficit, wetting the canopy and suppressing evatranspiration. TMCF also conserves water by consuming it over a long period of time. This results in a high proportion of epiphytes (bromelias, orchids, lichens, mosses, fungi and filmy ferns) and a corresponding reduction of woody climbers.



Reasons to preserve TMCFs:

• Their biodiversity is comparible to tropical rainforest, but cloud forest has not received equal public attention.
• Endemism: TMCF has a high level of endemic species; ie, species found only in specific ecosystems, which therefore do not occur anywhere else in the world.
• Climate change: special characteristics of TMCFs make them excellent sites for monitoring the impact of global climate and air quality change.
• Ecological sensitivity: TMCFs are highly susceptible to disturbance; if their ecosystem is disturbed, it takes longer for them to be restored than lower altitude forests.
• High deforestation and habitat loss: TMCFs are disappearing at the alarming rate of 1.1% per year, which is 0.3% higher even than rainforest loss.
• Insufficient research: we do not know half of the benefits of TMCFs. However, we do know that they inhibit erosion and that horizontal precipitation is an important part of the hydrological cycle.

Current threats to TMCFs:

• Expansion of subsistance agriculture by local people.
• Wood harvesting for fuel.
• Commerical logging.
• Hunting.
• Introduction of non-TMCF species.
• Tourism and recreation.
• Telephonic/media station construction.
• Unlawful development.

Much of Ecuador's forests are in need of preservation and restoration. 22% of the national territory is under governmental protection through the national parks and reserves programme. There is more forest in private reserves covering another 78,000 hectares or so, but much of this needs better monitoring and protection. Public and private sectors need to be incorporated in more diverse endeavors. The government alone cannot do it - it must be a shared responsibility.

La Hesperia's goals:

• To preserve the biodiversity of TMCF.
• to protect the local watersheds and existing forest through reforestation; monitoring human impact; and environmental education.
• to protect the existing forest.
• To maintain the reserve as an important bird area.
• To work toward sustainable development.
• To create community development programmes.
• To restore degraded areas both inside and outside the reserve.
• To educate the public in conservation and ecologicy.
• Research
• To share the reserve with locals, volunteers, research students and visitors.

La Hesperia is also striving to become a model of integrated farming where agripractice works with forest preservation. It also seeks to promote environmentally friendly economic activities which also benefit locals.

Tropical Montane Cloud Forest remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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The market was not a disappointment. We were up and out in the square while the sellers were still constructing their sturdy stalls, and wandering the side streets where the colourful artisan´s market mostly takes place. The animals and livestock market is much earlier, but I wasn´t too keen to see it, being of an oversensitive disposition where animals are concerned. I was afraid I might end up trying to sneak a pig or two and some chickens back to the reserve on the bus with me, so that they would be assured of a tranquil life.

One side of the square was taken up with food stalls, selling anything from fruit to roasted pigs and guinea pigs (an ecuadorian speciality I have yet to try) to maize. Much of the fruit I didn´t recognise, likewise the grains. Corn, or maize, comes in so many guises here, the variety is extraordinary. The lines of baskets, each with different grains and seeds, were a real treat for the eye. The smells of roasting meat, frying maize cakes and cooking rice and potatoes or yukka added an extra olifactory dimension, and it was great to see entire Indian families (the indigenous people as they call themselves) sitting tucking in to freshly cooked local produce.


Part of the square was devoted to knitwear: ponchos, sweaters, hats, scarves and blankets, and to woven wall hangings, rugs, hammocks and bags. There were leather goods, ceramics, jewellery made from silver and semi-precious stones, beautiful pieces of crafted Tegua (fruit from a tree, like a nut) and gourds from different semi-tropical trees. Some of the gourds were magnificently inscribed with ´historias´of such topics as ´La matrimonia´or ´Los animales de la selva´or just pictures of musical instruments and people. There was artwork, created from recycled paper with metalwork images of humming birds, condors, sun symbols and other legends of the Quechua or Inca people; there were wooden painted masks galore, some of animals, some of child-frightening monsters; paintings and etchings, charcoals and drawings. You just don´t known where to look. Some sellers are on the aggresive side, coming to meet you if you so much as cast an eye in the direction of their wares, others are gentle, smiling and welcoming. Either way, if it comes to a sale, the price is asked; you reject it immediately, whereupon the vendor asks you to name your price; this too is received with disbelief and a volley of explanations about the complexity and duration of the work that has gone into the piece in question. Eventually, a compromise is reached on both sides, and both parties end the transaction feeling satisfied that it was a fair one.

The indiginous people are 'amigable' and interested in where you come from. They speak a clear and articulated spanish, thankfully very different from the smooth tongue-rolling rattle of the natives of Spain I have encountered. So, conversation is easy and simple. I wonder if this is because Spanish is not their first language, as many of the Indian people speak Quechua. At any rate, communication was a pleasure, and many jokes were shared over the course of a very enjoyable day. Worries about non-existant space in my 80 litre backpack will come later...

Meanwhile, back up into the clouds till next weekend.

Otavalo remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Some 30 minutes later, I was wishing I had taken the advice of the volunteer coordinator in Quito, and left my backpack in the little shelter just inside the arch. It's not as high as Quito here in the western flanks of the Andes, but my body was still acclimatising and the afternoon heat and humidity was not helping me. When I thought my heart was bursting, I gave up the challenge and dropped my pack at the side of the path. Lighter physically and mentally, I went on up into the forest. At last I came on a welcome sign, with handpainted butterfly, and found myself approaching the hidden farmland and forest hacienda paradise of La Hesperia.

Words cannot do justice to the beauty of this place. Months of research on where exactly to volunteer in South America have paid off, as this must surely be heaven on earth. There was nobody around that hot afternoon, and I later learned that every Wednesday at 4pm the volunteers take on the staff and local kids in a game of football at the reserve. Juan Pablo, the owner/manager, and his wife Alexandra were in Quito at an important meeting about a hydro-electric power plant planned for the area, and so there was nobody to meet me or to collect my pack. However, volunteers soon began to appear, and soon I was surrounded by friendly faces and began to feel at home. As darkness and the inevitable nightly downpours descended, there was concern about the stray pack, but this was later picked up in Juan Pablo's jeep, with me shining my torch out the window, desperately searching for it in the dense darkness and vertical rain of the selva.

Ten days later, I am part of La Hesperia's furniture (of which there is precious little). There were 16 volunteers when I arrived, but people come and go on a weekly basis, which is difficult, but part of the routine here. We are a truly international community of diverse ages, backgrounds and experience, but socially we work extraordinarily well together. I have made friends from Ecuador, Australia, New Zealand, England, Norway, Germany, France, Denmark, Canada and the U.S. in the short time I've been here.

I share one of the smaller rooms with an English woman and an American student. The volunteer house is a five minute walk from the main hacienda and our kitchen and eating area. In the house we sleep, shower, do our laundry and generally hang out.

Everything here is semi-outdoors, so we are breathing pure forest air every minute of every day. There is only one jeep on the reserve, so there is no pollution. The walls of our house are half Cabuya fibre, half window, so the air constantly circulates in the rooms.

The showers have ceilings, but little in the way of walls, and our eating area is the same. The kitchen, where we wash up after meals, is completely outdoors, with a shelter overhead. It's the most wonderful kitchen I've ever worked in.

There are three women who cook for us. Lolita, the main cook (yes, my cat's name - it's got to be good sign) cheerfully presents us with simple, mainly organic food (which I'm learning to grow in our fantastic veggie garden) three times a day.
I was never one for breakfast, at best grabbing a banana or apple to eat in the car on the way through the traffic, but here I'm hungry for our first meal at 7.30am, and starving by lunchtime. The work is hard, though the hours are short compared to my Dublin workday. The jobs change every day, so we get a chance to try everything. For the first two days, I worked in the veggie garden with Eleanor, my room mate, who knows a lot about organic and sustainable farming.
It was so interesting, and provided plenty of opportunity for hard labour too. The hoe is officially my favourite tool, but not your pathetic little city garden hoe - no, here we have real hoes; huge, strong handled implements with broad sheets of sharp metal to swing and uproot the ubiquitous 'devil weed' from the soft, brown, humus-rich soil. I love using the hoe - it acts like an axe too; can hack through thick wood.

Another tool high on the popular list is the machete, although I have not used it yet. This is for the jungle, the selva, or forest.


Last thursday, a group of seven of us walked up to the high forest reforestation lines (a 40 minute uphill hike just to get to work) and Raoul, Juan Pablo's right-hand man, started to carve a path through the under and overgrowth. When I say a path, you may imagine a level track through soft vegetation. Not so - this 'path' dropped straight down from the main track at an angle so alarmingly steep that if you slipped, you fell several metres, and the growth was mostly dense, hard wood with some bamboo (stems thicker than both my hands can encircle). Raoul is a superb machete man. He merrily swung and hacked his way down impossible, impassible terrain, drawing swiftly far ahead of the other macheteers until the only evidence of his whereabouts was his cheery whistle and melodious song. Raoul is 42, looks 35, is fit, slim, strong and healthy. Like his colleagues Pablo and his wife Freda, Raoul is always laughing and telling jokes, and I look forward to improving my spanish sufficiently to understand them, because they must be hilarious, judging by the Ecuadorians' reaction. I have conversation classes in spanish most days (4 dollars an hour) and speak as much as I can with the Ecuadorians, so, it's slowly improving.

Meanwhile back up the mountain, my job was to follow in Raoul's wake with my ridiculously heavy 'digger', a tool I have since fallen in love with and want for my little garden, although I know it would be sadly out of place. Having taken most of my energy just to carry the damn thing up to the tree lines, I was then expected to clamber and slide down this mountainside, avoiding overhanging branches and vines (perhaps with snakes or spiders, and yes, there are poisonous species a-plenty), taking extreme care not to trip and fall, or step on anything living, lug my digger, AND dig a perfect hole every five metres (the lads claim this is five steps; it is not five of my steps, so some confusion reigned).

The job is hard - first, find a level site (everything's relative and standards slipped after 30 minutes, but hey, this is Ecuador and things are gentle and laid back); clear the ground of creepers, weeds, small seedlings and other invasive species, making sure there is no fire-ants' nests around); then lift and poise the extremely heavy digger (basically two long wooden pole with two sharp conjoined metal spades facing each other at the end, and a mechanism for closing them when full of soil, to remove same); thrust it with all your might into the earth, clamp soil and release in mound beside hole. The joy of this, once started, is immense, because the soil is soft and clean and workable. After five or six minutes, you have a perfect, cleanly outlined hole, 2 feet deep, for the baby trees, raised from seeds in the nursery, to begin their new lives in the forest. And muscles - you have muscles too.

The idea is simple: clear invasive species and reforest with threatened species, carefully nurtured at La Hesperia. We plant a different tree in each hole, repeating only every six or seven holes, so biodiversity is encouraged as much as possible. The seeds are collected by volunteers too, so the process is a complete and wonderfully satisfying one.

Having worked so hard that morning, I thought the afternoon would present an easy task, perhaps some pottering in the medicinal garden or collecting some green beans and basil for dinner. I was wrong. Eight of us went up to one of the high fields to roll dry scrub down the steep slope, where it will slowly decompose when covered with a light layer of earth, then can be used for fertilizing the same field. It was a searingly hot afternoon and the scrub was dry and dusty, so before long our eyes, noses, throats and mouths were filled with stinging dust. Between that, the heat and the bugs which persist despite copious quantities of Deet, we were completely shattered when the job was finished. The scrub had been cleared to grow a special tall skutch grass for the farm livestock. It may seem a little ironic that the farm has cleared land in an area of conservation, but firstly, this has been a farm for generations, and secondly, it is necessary to grow food to sustain the animals and hence the workers on this project. The bigger picture is happening, and I am glad to be even a tiny part of it for a tiny amount of time.

La Hesperia remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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I think this will be a lovely way to see the city. Perhaps after my orientation meeting in the Jatun Sacha office, where I will meet some of the staff of one of Ecuador's most well-known conservation organizations. They will give me all the information I need, and directions to La Hesperia, the cloud forest reserve which will be my home for the next ten weeks.

So, to my family and friends, I'm safe; I'm sound; I'm here! XX

Helen

South America remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We are now in Basque Country - some might say only just, but I'm sure that's not the way the inhabitants of Spain's most fashionable watering hole feel about their beautiful city. San Sebastian is just over the border from France, pretty close to that other magnet for the trendy wealthy, Biarritz. Basque is spoken all over this part of the north coast, into France as well, and there is a fierce pride in the evident differences in culture, cuisine and even the landscape. It was astonishing to take the West to East trail through the Pyrenees, and see the terrain change from hour to hour.
From the high reaches of the picturesque ski town of Benasque we reached the colourful and lively Aragonese town of Jaca, which was in the throes of one of its many August Fiestas, with costumed brass bands from many countries playing all round the streets. The following day we found ourselves climbing again and in a quiet mountain pasture we saw a calf being born, the sound of its mother's gently swinging bell accompanying its wild attempts to stand on brand new gangly legs.
The stumpy gorse of the high Pyrenees was in cream and yellow flower, a deceptive cushion of soft and inviting moss, but not for sitting on. From here we barrelled down through the golden haze of Navarra's rolling wheat plains, dust and heat literally floating in the dry air.
Then, northbound for the coast and San Sebastian, where we are treating ourselves to a plush hotel on the beach promenade, and sampling the most spectacular tapas I have ever encountered in Spain. The choice is mind-boggling, but I am learning at last that eyes are bigger than stomachs, and take only one 'pinxo' at a time.

Donostia/San Sebastian remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Camillo is a 50-something wiry Dutch hippie who runs this 600 acre hostel on an old olive farm in Granollers de Rocacorba, 1 hour west of Girona. It is vast, almost as big as the very wide and vast Girona cathedral which I strolled through yesterday; a beautiful, listed, 3-story, stone building with a vista of unending forest and overlooked itself by dramatic rocky escarpments.
A huge fig tree greets you at the entrance, as well as an Eco-shop. Camillo also runs the largest distribution company in Spain for ecological products. Thus, we knew that everything we ate or drank was pesticide free and most likely vegetarian. And so it proved. Dinner was brown rice with delicious home-grown vegetables and leaves, washed down with an excellent red from the nearby Rioja region. This kind of food never fails to make me feel good, and inevitably prompts inward resolutions to eat like this every day.
We´re staying in this paradise in the Pyrenean foothills for another night, then driving westwards to higher mountainscapes, hoping to be in San Sebastian by Friday. Although as I floated in the green stone pool up by the vegetable terraces late yesterday afternoon, the silence broken only by the buzzing of dragon flies and the rise and fall of the cicadas' sonic cycle, gazing up at the hazy blue sky and the surrounding high forests, I wondered why we had plans to leave. Then I remembered that one of the reasons we´re here in Spain (and there are many reasons, all good) is for me to practice my spoken Spanish. Por que en Septiembre, yo voy a Ecuador, y aqui, tengo que hablar Espanol todos los dias!
Helen

Pyreneean idyll remains copyright of the author Eleniki, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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