A year out

Lago Agrio ('Sour Lake') is only a short flight from Quito, but it's a vastly different landscape to the majestic Andean valley seat of Ecuador's sprawling capital, photographed here at dusk the night before we left it.

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.

I tried to take the 'devils nose' train ride on the way to Cuenca from Riobamba (first word Rio, spanish for river; second word, bamba, Quechua word for 'plain' - so, the river on the plain, and so it is). The train was lovely, very old, and rattled along through some stunning landscape, and I saw many 'campesinos' (country people, indigenous people) working in the fields, some of which were located at alarming angles - every inch of viable land is used here, right up to the top of a mountain if necessary, not like at home, where a wussy little hill is considered too steep to utilise for crops. Sadly the train wasn't going as far as the actual devils nose that day, which is apparently like a sort of roller coaster, with enthusiastic tourists sitting on the roof until two japanese tourists were decapitated 8 months ago - something to do with an electric line, and standing up at the wrong time - so now it´s forbidden. I was happy enough to sit inside. It´s pretty touristy - probably the most touristy thing I've done here, but it was very interesting and picturesque. The landscape changed all the time, and I saw the huge (extinct) volcano, Chimborazo, the highest volcano in Ecuador, even higher than Cotopaxi.

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.

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."

Leaving the car alarms, honking horns and choking fumes behind, I left Quito in style. I met two charming americans, Jonathan and Mark, in my hotel and they invited me to travel with them for two days. They were going in my direction - Cotopaxi-wards - and it made sense to team up for the journey.

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.

Impressions of this beautiful country of extremes and contrasts are many. I include a few of the images I managed to capture, although they are only pale imitations.

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