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Travelog part 4: Papallacta, back to Quito, and on to Roatan
This is the town of Papallacta, on the east side of the Andes, from the road to the hot springs. Isn't it pretty?
Saturday, July 30 (Papallacta): in which we freeze our butts off on the equator
At $40 a night with breakfast, our hotel, La Choza de don Wilson, was the most expensive place we stayed in Ecuador. But this was a resort area; the fancy resort hotel that is attached to the hot springs (Termas de Papallacta) would have cost us $135 a night (although this includes admission to the hot springs, $7/person). Still, after the first night, we were wondering if we'd made a mistake. The hotel had small but clean rooms, private bathrooms, and an attached restaurant where we had a tasty dinner. What it didn't have, though, was heat.
There was an electric burner in a large fake fireplace in the dining area, and there was a large indoor hot pool. There was plenty of hot water in our taps. But the rooms themselves were unheated. You might think this would not be an issue at 0°21'S, but at 10,000 or so feet, the damp, misty air seemed to pull the heat directly from our skin. Fortunately, there were plenty of quilts on the bed, so after we returned from the main hot springs and had dinner, we took one last soak in the hotel's hot pool, threw on our wool long johns, and then ran as fast as we could back to our room and jumped into bed.
In the morning, Britt and I woke early and took our books to the dining area to wait for breakfast, which was served at the rather late hour of 8:30 am. We wore all our clothes, including hats and gloves, and we were still freezing. Eventually the staff woke and showed us how to light the electric heater, but my pleas for coffee went unheard until exactly 8:30.
After breakfast, we set out to hike. The Termas de Papallacta was a bit more than a mile of steep, switchbacking road from our hotel; then the dirt road continues up four more miles to the Reserva Ecologica Cayambe-Coca. Just above the Termas, though, is a beautiful nature trail that paralleled the road along the rushing river, so we followed that until we hit the road, then continued to the guard station. As it turned out, the guard on duty had been at the hot springs the night before, where Rolfe had chatted with him, so we all talked a little longer and then headed up a "trail" (actually a closed dirt road) to a set of lakes.
At the first really big lake, we took out our hiking snacks and had a picnic lunch, listening to the birds and watching the mist roll across the valley. Unfortunately, shortly after we sat down, it started to rain. Fortunately, we had our rain gear - we were pretty much the only hikers up there with appropriate clothes - but it made for a lot less pleasant of an experience. As the rain showed no sign of letting up, we decided it was time to turn around. It was pretty good timing, actually, since we got to the hot springs right around 4:30. We had, of course, brought our swimsuits and towels. Sitting around in the rain is not so bad when you are up to your neck in steaming hot water!
When we were completely prune-ified, about an hour and a half later, it was time to decide what to do for dinner. We didn't want to eat at the hotel restaurant again; we had passed a few other small hotels and restaurants on the way up, and figured one of those would do. Then someone suggested that we could splurge and eat at the fancy resort hotel's restaurant. It was still raining, and walking down the hill didn't seem like a lot of fun, so we headed into the hotel. The restaurant didn't open until 7:00, but we went into the elegant lounge, feeling like bedraggled interlopers in our dripping wet Gore-Tex. The waiters batted not an eye but brought us drinks, and we took off our wet stuff and snuggled into the comfy couches, drinking Irish Coffee and wine until the restaurant opened.
The food was fabulous. And although it was expensive relative to Ecuador, it was inexpensive relative to what you'd pay in the US for, ooh, roasted pork chops with prune and port sauce, or grilled trout with native vegetables, and the wine was reasonably priced, too, and the waiter was funny and nice. Everybody at the tables were gringos (although not necessarily American), of course. And the room was warm. That was the best part. We were so toasty warm that we were reluctant to walk the mile-plus back down to our cheap, freezing hotel in the pouring rain, so we called a cab, and for the exorbitant rate of $4 got a lift back down to Where The Cheap-Ass Hikers Stay.
And oh, my GOD it was COLD. We got into our rooms, pulled on our long-johns and hats and gloves, and jumped into bed to read a while. Maybe 10 minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and I got up to open it. A woman in a chef's white coat and hat held out a 1-liter soda bottle filled with what looked like water, smiled, and said something in Spanish that I didn't catch. I told her I hadn't bought anything to drink. She shook her head and repeated herself more slowly: it was a hot water bottle, which the hotel was providing for free since it was unusually cold that night. I thanked her and she handed me two of them, and wow, they were really hot! We stuck them under our covers by our feet, and amazingly, the bottles stayed warm nearly all night. (And so did my feet.)
Sunday, July 31 (Papallacta to Quito): in which we take four paragraphs to do nothing
We had arranged for an "executive taxi" to take us to Quito, and it picked us up late that morning. Of course, now that we were leaving the east side of the Andes, it was a dry and only partly cloudy day, and we finally saw the "big-ass mountain" (Antisana) that Rolfe had been promising us was hidden in the mist.
Back in Quito, it turned out that there had been a problem with our hostel reservations, and the place was booked. But there was another hostel across the street - the Mariscal district is pretty much Gringo Central, with lodgings of every description and price range on each block - and it turned out to be actually a bit nicer than our original place, with a private bathroom, an outdoor courtyard, and a common room with an internet-connected computer.
Our first priority was to do laundry, as everything we'd worn in Tena was still damp and smelled like jungle. We headed out in search of a laundromat, but found something better - a laundry that would do our laundry for us and get it back to us early that afternoon for only 30 cents a pound. We dropped everything off and went in search of lunch, which we located at an outdoor cafe. By the time we had eaten and walked around the neighborhood a bit more, our clothes were washed and folded and ready to pick up.
Just as we got back to the hostel, it started to rain. Well, it was Sunday, and nothing was open anyway, so we grabbed our books and lounged in the common room until dinner, which we had at a Mexican restaurant we'd spotted on the way back from lunch. It was very definitely a tourist place, and as such was exempt, or so it seemed, from the "no alcohol on Sunday" law, so we gleefully had margaritas with our Ecuadorian Mexican food.
Monday, August 1 (Quito to Roatan): in which we go the wrong way
We had to wake up before 5 am, ugh, to get to the airport the requisite 2+ hours before our 7:15 flight. Nearly the whole time was taken up standing in line - I think we counted five different lines before we finally got on the plane. We changed planes in Lima and then in San Salvador, and if you are thinking, "hmm, isn't Lima in the opposite direction from Roatan?" you are absolutely right. But, you know, travel day, time to be a sheep, and if they say you have to go to Lima, you go to Lima. It was fun looking out the window, anyway, and the Lima airport had an entertainingly-named store which I'll have to remember, in case something happens to Britt and I need to get another one.
We got to Roatan in late afternoon, and the caretakers of the house we'd rented picked us up and arranged for a friend to rent us a car. He showed up at 6; Kristin and I immediately drove off to get groceries for dinner, while Rolfe and Britt and Al the car guy drank the rum we'd bought at the Duty Free shop in San Salvador. It was already almost dark, and we got lost, and the supermarket was awful, and a woman tried to accost us for money in the parking lot. We finally got home, hungry and tired and stressed out; meanwhile, the guys had drunk 3/4 of the rum. "Make us drinks, NOW, damn it!" we yelled, and they jumped to obey, and after Kristin and I had been sufficiently placated we made dinner, and we stuffed our faces, and went to bed.
Just the photos, plus a couple more, at Flickr
Saturday, July 30 (Papallacta): in which we freeze our butts off on the equator
At $40 a night with breakfast, our hotel, La Choza de don Wilson, was the most expensive place we stayed in Ecuador. But this was a resort area; the fancy resort hotel that is attached to the hot springs (Termas de Papallacta) would have cost us $135 a night (although this includes admission to the hot springs, $7/person). Still, after the first night, we were wondering if we'd made a mistake. The hotel had small but clean rooms, private bathrooms, and an attached restaurant where we had a tasty dinner. What it didn't have, though, was heat.
There was an electric burner in a large fake fireplace in the dining area, and there was a large indoor hot pool. There was plenty of hot water in our taps. But the rooms themselves were unheated. You might think this would not be an issue at 0°21'S, but at 10,000 or so feet, the damp, misty air seemed to pull the heat directly from our skin. Fortunately, there were plenty of quilts on the bed, so after we returned from the main hot springs and had dinner, we took one last soak in the hotel's hot pool, threw on our wool long johns, and then ran as fast as we could back to our room and jumped into bed.
In the morning, Britt and I woke early and took our books to the dining area to wait for breakfast, which was served at the rather late hour of 8:30 am. We wore all our clothes, including hats and gloves, and we were still freezing. Eventually the staff woke and showed us how to light the electric heater, but my pleas for coffee went unheard until exactly 8:30.
After breakfast, we set out to hike. The Termas de Papallacta was a bit more than a mile of steep, switchbacking road from our hotel; then the dirt road continues up four more miles to the Reserva Ecologica Cayambe-Coca. Just above the Termas, though, is a beautiful nature trail that paralleled the road along the rushing river, so we followed that until we hit the road, then continued to the guard station. As it turned out, the guard on duty had been at the hot springs the night before, where Rolfe had chatted with him, so we all talked a little longer and then headed up a "trail" (actually a closed dirt road) to a set of lakes.
At the first really big lake, we took out our hiking snacks and had a picnic lunch, listening to the birds and watching the mist roll across the valley. Unfortunately, shortly after we sat down, it started to rain. Fortunately, we had our rain gear - we were pretty much the only hikers up there with appropriate clothes - but it made for a lot less pleasant of an experience. As the rain showed no sign of letting up, we decided it was time to turn around. It was pretty good timing, actually, since we got to the hot springs right around 4:30. We had, of course, brought our swimsuits and towels. Sitting around in the rain is not so bad when you are up to your neck in steaming hot water!
When we were completely prune-ified, about an hour and a half later, it was time to decide what to do for dinner. We didn't want to eat at the hotel restaurant again; we had passed a few other small hotels and restaurants on the way up, and figured one of those would do. Then someone suggested that we could splurge and eat at the fancy resort hotel's restaurant. It was still raining, and walking down the hill didn't seem like a lot of fun, so we headed into the hotel. The restaurant didn't open until 7:00, but we went into the elegant lounge, feeling like bedraggled interlopers in our dripping wet Gore-Tex. The waiters batted not an eye but brought us drinks, and we took off our wet stuff and snuggled into the comfy couches, drinking Irish Coffee and wine until the restaurant opened.
The food was fabulous. And although it was expensive relative to Ecuador, it was inexpensive relative to what you'd pay in the US for, ooh, roasted pork chops with prune and port sauce, or grilled trout with native vegetables, and the wine was reasonably priced, too, and the waiter was funny and nice. Everybody at the tables were gringos (although not necessarily American), of course. And the room was warm. That was the best part. We were so toasty warm that we were reluctant to walk the mile-plus back down to our cheap, freezing hotel in the pouring rain, so we called a cab, and for the exorbitant rate of $4 got a lift back down to Where The Cheap-Ass Hikers Stay.
And oh, my GOD it was COLD. We got into our rooms, pulled on our long-johns and hats and gloves, and jumped into bed to read a while. Maybe 10 minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and I got up to open it. A woman in a chef's white coat and hat held out a 1-liter soda bottle filled with what looked like water, smiled, and said something in Spanish that I didn't catch. I told her I hadn't bought anything to drink. She shook her head and repeated herself more slowly: it was a hot water bottle, which the hotel was providing for free since it was unusually cold that night. I thanked her and she handed me two of them, and wow, they were really hot! We stuck them under our covers by our feet, and amazingly, the bottles stayed warm nearly all night. (And so did my feet.)
Sunday, July 31 (Papallacta to Quito): in which we take four paragraphs to do nothing
We had arranged for an "executive taxi" to take us to Quito, and it picked us up late that morning. Of course, now that we were leaving the east side of the Andes, it was a dry and only partly cloudy day, and we finally saw the "big-ass mountain" (Antisana) that Rolfe had been promising us was hidden in the mist.
Back in Quito, it turned out that there had been a problem with our hostel reservations, and the place was booked. But there was another hostel across the street - the Mariscal district is pretty much Gringo Central, with lodgings of every description and price range on each block - and it turned out to be actually a bit nicer than our original place, with a private bathroom, an outdoor courtyard, and a common room with an internet-connected computer.
Our first priority was to do laundry, as everything we'd worn in Tena was still damp and smelled like jungle. We headed out in search of a laundromat, but found something better - a laundry that would do our laundry for us and get it back to us early that afternoon for only 30 cents a pound. We dropped everything off and went in search of lunch, which we located at an outdoor cafe. By the time we had eaten and walked around the neighborhood a bit more, our clothes were washed and folded and ready to pick up.
Just as we got back to the hostel, it started to rain. Well, it was Sunday, and nothing was open anyway, so we grabbed our books and lounged in the common room until dinner, which we had at a Mexican restaurant we'd spotted on the way back from lunch. It was very definitely a tourist place, and as such was exempt, or so it seemed, from the "no alcohol on Sunday" law, so we gleefully had margaritas with our Ecuadorian Mexican food.
Monday, August 1 (Quito to Roatan): in which we go the wrong way
We had to wake up before 5 am, ugh, to get to the airport the requisite 2+ hours before our 7:15 flight. Nearly the whole time was taken up standing in line - I think we counted five different lines before we finally got on the plane. We changed planes in Lima and then in San Salvador, and if you are thinking, "hmm, isn't Lima in the opposite direction from Roatan?" you are absolutely right. But, you know, travel day, time to be a sheep, and if they say you have to go to Lima, you go to Lima. It was fun looking out the window, anyway, and the Lima airport had an entertainingly-named store which I'll have to remember, in case something happens to Britt and I need to get another one.
We got to Roatan in late afternoon, and the caretakers of the house we'd rented picked us up and arranged for a friend to rent us a car. He showed up at 6; Kristin and I immediately drove off to get groceries for dinner, while Rolfe and Britt and Al the car guy drank the rum we'd bought at the Duty Free shop in San Salvador. It was already almost dark, and we got lost, and the supermarket was awful, and a woman tried to accost us for money in the parking lot. We finally got home, hungry and tired and stressed out; meanwhile, the guys had drunk 3/4 of the rum. "Make us drinks, NOW, damn it!" we yelled, and they jumped to obey, and after Kristin and I had been sufficiently placated we made dinner, and we stuffed our faces, and went to bed.
Just the photos, plus a couple more, at Flickr
El cafecito screwed up your reservations!?!!!!
(Anonymous) 2011-09-02 12:16 pm (UTC)(link)Re: El cafecito screwed up your reservations!?!!!!