December 28th-30th 2014
After watching a very disappointing Manchester United draw to Tottenham, I leave my home in Quito and hop on a 25 cent metro bus ride towards Ofelia station. The bus is very crowded, as is normal so I’m glad I’ve reduced myself to my small day pack for my three day adventure in the cloud forests a few hours from Quito.
The bus is full of friendly Ecuadorians who smile and make small talk with me, intrigued by what Canada is like and what I think of their country. It makes the near hour long bus ride pass quite quickly and soon I find myself at Ofelia Terminal, leaving the local bus section behind and heading off in search of the Flor De Valle office.
It’s easy to find and I quickly buy a ticket on the 11 am bus to Mindo for 2.50. I’d read buses are often full so I got there early, but on this particular day the bus pulled out of the station less than one third full, and my 45 minute early arrival was largely pointless.
That said, as is always the case while travelling , entertaining myself proves quite easy as I watch a few local children wrestling viciously, smiles cutting across the whole of their faces as their parents make half hearted attempts to keep them playing safe. Watching their reckless abandon I can’t help but grin. They catch my eyes and it soon turns into something almost akin to an intricately chorea graphed piece of theatre, each boy trying to impress with their vicious take downs. Their sheer enthusiasm lights the fuse of excitement for all the waterfalls which I know are still to come and helps the wait pass quickly.
The bus ride itself is pretty standard, that is to say, full of stunning mountain scenery as we descend out of the spine of the Andes and into the pure green of the cloud forests, still very much in the mountains just slightly smaller ones. The road, like all I’ve encountered so far in Ecuador, is stunningly well maintained, if full of tight curves and only adds to the experience.
Two hours later I’m climbing out of the bus onto a muddy rutted main road of Mindo. I gaze up at the surrounding green hills which encapsulate the little valley town before noticing the people trying to fill their hospedaje (Small hotels). I tell them I already have a reservation, and, since everyone in Ecuador is so friendly, one of them walks with me to the corner and points out my path to Casa De Cecilia. (Dorms 9 USD).
At three minutes walk from town, while being simultaneously nestled in a dense and all encompassing tropical garden beside a babbling brook Casa Cecilia is the perfect base from which to see Mindo. The staff gives me a warm welcome in Spanish and I’m shown to my dorm, lucky enough to avoid a bunk bed.
The hostel is a charming collection of wooden cabins built alongside the riverside, breakfast is extra but good, the staff only speak Spanish and are very helpful when you can find them, and they keep two charming dogs and a kitten who is all but guaranteed to steal your heart. Bring some string to play with her if you can.
I spend the first day wandering around the town, enjoying some tasty local food and meeting some lovely fellow travellers at the hostel. Weaned up eating dinner together at a little Mexican restaurant which I believe was called Taco Loco. For whatever reason I’ve been eating a lot of Mexican there lately.
The food there was pretty good and decently cheap for a tourist town, and our waitress, despite not being older than twelve years old, did a fantastic job dealing with 6 unwieldy and boisterous gringos.
It’s one of those things about travel, especially in vastly different cultures. I honestly don’t know how to feel when I see children working hard and serving me. It screams exploitation but at the same time it doesn’t quite. The restaurant is clearly family run and she seems perfectly content to pull her weight, even practicing a little English before the meal is out. That said, my childhood holds only the fondest of memories and I wonder if it would have been the same had I been working so hard. It’s an interesting question, and one that presents itself constantly across Asia and South America.
That said the next night I saw her out playing with friends happily, so perhaps it’s not altogether difference then the chores I did (or avoided) for my allowance.
I head to bead relatively early, but not before we’ve all agreed to head to the waterfall sanctuary early on the morrow. Fittingly, I dream of waterfalls, and not the recurring nightmare of a series of Niagra’s I’ve had since childhood. Strange that I love them so now isn’t it?
I wake up, eat breakfast and make a quick run into town for some snacks and water before jumping into the back of a shared pickup truck for a dollar (6 USD for the truck plus 1$ for each person beyond 6) which will take us the roughly 7 km to the cable car.
We arrive a few minutes after nine, the scheduled opening time but find the cable car still very much closed, just four waiting tourists ahead of us. Luckily we don’t have to wait long as a man who can only be described as a cross between Snoop Dogg and Bob Marley rolls up on his motorcycle and takes his seat in the captains chair beside something closely resembling a car engine. Before long a yellow cage type thing is dangling from a cord in front of us and he herds the four tourists in before returning to his seat.
The engine sputters then roars and soon that yellow cage is a speck of gold on the very green horizon before us. Before long it’s back and now it’s our turn, climbing into the slightly rusted open air cage and taking our seats full of excitement and a few nerves. It doesn’t take long as Snoop Marley sets us flying across the valley, soaring high above the dense canopy of the cloud forest. It only takes a minute and a half, but the view is incredible for those brave enough to look down.
At the other side the 9 of us decide to go right first, towards the biggest falls and the most distance. We walk along the narrow ribbon of mud carved out of the dense and dripping cloud forest, winding up and down through the mountainous terrain. Before too long I’m covered in sweat, and immensely glad of the small streams we pass en route allowing me to cool down. Some might even be considered minor waterfalls, but not here. Here there’s too many of the main things.
Just before we reach La Reina we come to something that has to be called a cascade, alongside a moss covered set of steps installed on top of a massive fallen tree trunk, leading up over the perhaps 5 meter drop of crashing water up to the main attraction.
La Reina is beautiful, and very easily accessible, if a little cold for most. In instants I’ve peeled down to just my bathing suit and am clambering through the rocky knee deep water towards the falling water. The rush envelops me, and though the water flow here is no match for Peguche falls I still lose myself in the wordless euphoria of being a part of the falls. My friends only laugh and graciously snap a few shots for me before they continue on towards the other falls.
I can’t make myself leave so soon, and instead find a convenient bolder in the rushing rapids just removed from the minor mist and set to writing about Why I travel. Of course as any loyal followers know it doesn’t last long as the rain starts coming down and I’m forced on my way, back towards the cable car and the left turn which leads to countless more falls. A waterfall Sanctuary in fact, As I walk I find myself grinning despite the effort and driving rain. A waterfall Sanctuary, what an idea!
I reach the first falls and meet a few other Canadians from town at Nambillo Falls, a set accessible without the cable car by continuing along the road a kilometer or so past where we got out of the taxi.
I can’t stay chatting long though as I need to get into the water. Quite frustratingly though Nambillo proves impossible to get under, the currents to strong and the rocks along the side far too smooth to find any traction against the current. I think I could have done it on the left side of the falls but a local warns me of very dangerous currents where the river splits and goes underground. Reluctantly I accept defeat and marvel at the falls from perhaps 20 meters away in the chest deep rushing water.
One of the other Canadians notices my go pro and asks me to film him doing the jump from the Cliffside that is frankly, a little too crazy for me. If it got me into the waterfall sure, but it’s a long way up and I’m stunned when he puts on the life jacket offered by the local guides and not only jumps but does a flip before crashing into the fairly shallow water.
Apparently he touched the bottom, though not hard, and that fact wipes away any idea of me jumping, since I have a lot more weight to drive me downwards then he does. There’ll be a wet and blurry video coming before too long.
It’s still pouring rain when I set off back up the steep trail towards the waterfall sanctuary itself, though my excitement is limited as I’ve read online these ones are not so much for swimming or getting under. Well, as is often the case with waterfalls, the internet could not be more wrong.
The series of five waterfalls that come next pass in a blur of euphoric happiness. Not only is each one beautiful and of a decent size, each one is very much accessible for those with a sense of adventure, and they also flow stronger than Reina, so while they might not be quite as tall, they make up for it in isolation and the sheer force of the rush once you’re under them.
I get under each one fully, much to the amusement of fellow hikers who find the water too cold and too strong to bother. They don’t know what their missing.
i’d thought about tubing or bird watching on my second day, but halfway through the waterfalls I know this won’t happen. Oh well, I decide, waterfalls don’t get old, especially not when the trails themselves are through beautiful forests and almost all of them are enterable. So can you guess how I spent my final day in Mindo? I’ll give you a hint.
The cable car is only open 9 to 4:30 pm. So at about 3:20 pm, thoroughly soaked and sated I force myself to leave Cascada Azul the last of the Sanctuary’s falls and hurry back towards the cable car. I manage to catch a lovely Argentinean couple and friendly Ecuadorian man a few minutes before the end of the trail. All the people I arrived with have long since left, forced away by the constant torrent of rain and lack of true waterfall enthusiasm, something 99.99 percent of the global population is guilty of in my mind.
We end up deciding we’re all too wet and exhausted to bother the hour long walk back to town and share a taxi back for 1.50 each.
In town we quickly say our goodbyes, exchange information and then head our separate ways. I stumble back into the dorm of Casa Cecilia covered in a mixture of mud, sweat, rain, and waterfall, drenched to the bone with a badly swollen but entirely happy, knowing I’ll be doing the exact same thing on the morrow. Other options include tubing, bird watching, and a chocolate tour with lots of samples, but what are those things compared to waterfalls. (keep in mind just how much I love chocolate)
My legs are aching after the 5-6 hours of steady walking through muddy and mountainous paths. (Note to those who go: Bring water snacks and a raincoat. Even for people in the shape, the walks enough to be significant if you want to see all the falls, which you really have to) but I force myself up out of bed before too long a break and head into town craving pizza.
My craving is fulfilled at Padrinos, a small bakery turned Pizzeria on the main road. The food is delicious, and for pizza, pretty cheap. The garlic bread balls served as an appetizer are a wonderful surprise and the pizza is smothered in cheese just like I’ve asked for. Paired with the 4 year old daughter of the family playing all around me and swearing me to silence with a finger held to her lips as she jumps and flies around the space in ways I’m sure she’s not allowed to, provides an ideal ending to a perfect day.
And tomorrow I get to do it all again! What a life!
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Once we figured out where we were going, we headed up the road that took us high up a mountain to a cable car (tarabita). – See more at: http://www.lasterrazasdedana.com/