January 27th, 2015

I wake up early despite a very late night of cribbage after taking in a bunch of Incan ruins, just to see my Brother and Clara off.  Of course as always happens they end up leaving later than originally planned and I rose for nothing. Oh well, live and learn.  They leave and I have a decision to make.  Waterfall or straight to Guayaquil.  Deep down I know it’s not even a choice.

I hop in a taxi to the main bus terminal of Cuenca (2.50)  and once there ask at random offices looking for a ticket to Giron, the town near the falls. No offices sell it but eventually I’m pointed out to the platforms and walk all the way to my left finding a bus which passes by Giron (about an hour from Cuenca)  I climb aboard and pay my fare (About 1. 50)and maybe a minute later we’re on our way.  Buses in Ecuador are great, never too uncomfortable, always blasting loud music or bad movies, and always very full of life.  They also seem to largely run close to on time and leave frequently, making it easy to get around this incredibly varied country.

The bus weaves through Cuenca traffic and ascends up higher into the mountains, passing through a long section of mist so thick you can’t see the ground from the bus windows before descending back into clear air and the valley which holds Giron.

I use a phrase which has come in handy countless time  “Disculpame, puede me advisar cuando estamos en ___________”  and the bus attendant is as good as his word indicating I should climb off at a busy intersection at the top edge of Giron.

I climb out of the bus and start looking for a taxi to take me up towards the falls.  Walking is certainly an option but at over an hour straight uphill I’ve decided a taxi (5$)  is my best option, especially since I’m planning to bus from Cuenca to Guayaquil later this evening.  But there’s no taxi to be found so I ask a young man named Luis hanging out on some steps and he hops up and walks a block or so down the street with me and finds me a taxi, hopping in for a free ride up to his house.  Win-Win.

We chat as we ride and get to know each other a bit before he climbs out at his house promising me the waterfalls just another 5 minutes or so.The friendly taxi driver leaves me at the parking lot after telling me that there’s two separate waterfalls.  One the main one named El Chorro de Giron is straight ahead, the other is about a 90 minute walk up through the mountainous forest following a trail which starts just right of the road when on your way up.  I sadly don;t have time for both and so thank him for the advise, pay him the 5 dollars and head into the little house where some friendly ladies collect my 2 dollar entry fee before pointing me towards some stairs up into the jungle.  I also meet a friendly cat, which is awesome.

Even from the road I can catch glimpses of the huge roughly 80 meter falls  (they really seem higher)  and it’s enough to get me very excited and send me bounding up the wooden steps into the forest.

I stumble out onto the first viewing balcony and my jaw drops.  Yes, I’ve seen a lot of waterfalls in the past year and a half, especially since coming to South America, but the feeling never gets old.  From San Rafael Falls,  to Magica Falls, to Cascadas de Juan Piedro,  or Colombia’s tallest La Chorrero , or Rio Pita, or Mindo’s waterfall sanctuary, or even Banos Waterfall Route, it’s all love.  Simpler than that even, it’s awe, pure and simple, and my neck cranes up towards the mist shrouded top of the waterfall, A smile splits my face.

Eventually I regain control enough to take my  camera out and snap some pictures, even though the mist from the waterfall billows out even this far away.

Eventually the pull of the inviting looking pool below the cascades wins out and I put my camera away, heading quickly back onto the path and up to the bridge over the river just below the water.  There i Snap a few more photos risking my camera in the dense mist before hurrying across the bridge and finding a good lookout spot on a huge rock allowing me to snap a few more photos.

I’m utterly alone for a good long while admiring the falls and the impressive views down the mountain.  It’s cold this high up but I know I’m going to make it in to the waterfall.  How could I not?

I’m eventually joined by a single Argentinean man who kindly takes some photos of me with the falls, and I take some of him.  They show the scale of the waterfall among other things, and the stunning growth of my atrocious looking travel beard.  It’s staying until my Dad’s Chilean visit this march, by then it should be a very unkempt mess.

The photos done I peel off my clothes and head towards the pool, amazed by just how cold the spray is and beginning to doubt myself.  But with my new friend watching and the waterfall before me I don’t have a choice.  I crouch down and slip into the neck deep edges of the frigid pool picturing fire in my veins as I quickly swim across to some rocks nearer to the falls.

There I start climbing, ignoring chattering teeth and a shivering body until I’m under the falling water, relishing in the wildness of it all while trying not to succumb to the cold of it.  I think it may be the coldest water I’ve been in, though Rio Pita is a tough one to beat out.

Either way, after a few brief moments of bliss in the falls I climb out, swim back across the inviting but freezing pool and then put my clothes back on.

My Argentinean friend and I decide to skip the taxi ride down and walk it instead, heading down the road at an ambling pace.  The scenery is terrific and I take lots of photos as we pass through tiny villages, past babbling brooks, and beyond some of the strangest trees I’ve ever seen.

We reach Giron perhaps an hour later and find a bus waiting to go to Cuenca, so we scrap our lunch plans, buy some salchipapas (hot dog meat and fries) from a street vendor beside the bus and leap on at the last moment just as the bus is pulling away.

The hour ride passes quickly enough, though it’s pouring rain back in Cuenca and it takes half an hour to get a taxi back to Mallki Hostel where I pick up my big bag and hop back into the same cab, returning to the bus station and climbing into a bus to Guayaquil  (8$ and about 4 hours).

I’ve only got one day in Guayaquil and you’ll see the few things I managed to do with it in the next entry, but as I drift to sleep on the bus winding up through Cajas National Park, my closed eyes see el Chorro de Giron, yet another spectacular Ecuadorian waterfall.