We decided that to head directly from Quito to the coast would mean missing out too much of central Ecuador so we decided to head to the town of Latacunga from where we could reach the laguna Quilahtoa which sits in an extinct volcanic crater. This turned out to be another interesting journey with another hike which we made as difficult as we could for ourselves.

Arrving in Latacunga we found a bus which was heading to Zumbahua where we could then head to the volcano. However, we didn´t have anywhere to stay and in the bus station we saw adverts for a couple of hostels in the town of Chugchilián which was a little further on. We therefore asked the bus driver if we could go there, he said that we couldn´t but that he could drop us off somewhere where we could spend the night before heading to Chugchilián the next morning. It was at this point we should have said that we actually wanted to see Quilahtoa - but we didn´t.

We were crammed in at the back of the bus, surrounded by the locals, the local women stand out especially as they all wear pork pie hats, somne with peacock feathers in, with brightly coloured shawls and long white socks. Off we went, again driving through the beautiful landscape of the Andes with huge drops on either side which suddenly appeared periodically as we drove in and out of clouds. I had little choice but to stare out of the windows at the scenery as my movements were severely restricted. Next to me was sat a young mother with her son who was about a year old. For a large part of the journey he slept partly on his mum´s lap but mostly on mine so that if I´d shifted my legs he´d have fallen off the seat. He did wake up every now and again when he was hungry. His Mum had an ingenious way of not being disturbed from her sleep, shortly after leaving the bus station she had simply bared both her breasts so that when junior was hungry he just hauled himself up and had a feed. So not only could I not move my legs I was particularly careful also not to move my arms for fear of what I might nudge. We passed through the town of Zumbahua where there was a local bull running fiesta going on so the bus pulled up and we sat and watched the local lads being chased by bulls (memories of Madrid came flooding back to me) and one of them who sprinted straight at the bull and somersaulted over it.

Having continued on the bus and travelled past a sign for Quilahtoa we began to realise that we didn´t really know where we were heading when we arrived in the tiny town of Guayama. Once again we were in the back of beyond. There was only one hostel, a tiny shop that basically sold canned fish, biscuits and rice and a bakery where they seemed surprised when we asked for bread. It was also cold. After about a 5 minute dawdle around the whole village we sat and ate our biscuits while watching the locals play volleyball., it was interesting just tyo sit and watch the local people going about their evenings business. As night fell Alison decided she didn´t fancy Guinea Pig soup, muttering about her beloved Flake, so we we dined on Tuna, carrot and rice for dinner. As we were finishing the guys from the bus came in for their dinner (probably explaining why we were dropped off here), they told us that the one and only bus back to the Laguna left at 3am but told us we should be able to sort ourselves a lift out if that was too early.

We were woken up at 7.30 the next morning for our breakfast of rice and eggs (rice has been in just about every meal we´ve had since arriving in Colombia). We then took our packs and walked to the entrance to the village, I became slightly wary when I realised that there were no cars anywhere in the village. However, we were directed to the top of the village where we found a house with a car parked outside. Unfortunately the driver was not home and the old lady who lived there seemed keen for us to be on our way.

We were in a bit of a pickle, we could walk to the laguna and then return later that night but that would have meant a wasted day and the same problems in getting away the following day. Encouraged to make our minds up before too long by the old lady who was heading in the same direction and didn´t want us hanging around her house we decided to start walking up another mountain. However, this time we were carrying all of our gear, about 45kg in total. So there we were climbing a mountain of 3,800m with huge backpacks on and to make matters worse a large part of the terrain was sand. Climbing at that altitude anyway would normally be hard enough without the backpacks. Luckily we were helped by a relay of guides. Firstly the old lady showed us the route, moments after she´d departed we met a young girl who then directed us along the next stretch. The last, and steepest, part of the climb we did by ourselves and we were rewarded when we reached the top by a truly spectacular view of the lake sat in the crater. While it had been really tough we felt pretty proud of ourselves for having made it and the view was a suitable reward. We were then guided to the local town by a passing school teacher, we´d just basically done his commute to work, and we sat and had lunch looking out over the lake before heading back to Zumbahua and beginning our journey to the coast.