Our Crazy Adventure in Patul

There is a certain amount of truth in the fact that Ron and I were never really "budget" travelers, no. We like to have our own bathroom, ideally a king-sized bed and if breakfast is included, well, that's pretty perfect. We aren't Waldorf Astoria kind of folks either, but swing closer to that side of the scale than the other. 

Then we decided to discover South America and, as neither of us is working, this requires certain...accommodations...to the budget. We've camped, rented RVs, hosteled it. (Okay, in a private room, but it was still a hostel.)  Now, we decided to go off and see this tiny little pueblecito called Patul. It's due north of Cajas National Park. There are no roads to get to it, just horse trails and it's high up in the Andes where they actually get frost and snow. (Did I mention it's still officially winter here?)  The good news is that we got to stay indoors, which actually has four walls, but we're still in Ecuador, so there is no central heating. Ah, we're on the equator, how bad can it be?

Why this craziness, you might ask? One of our friends has always wanted to go there and arranged a trip for us. Us being 10 brave souls ready to roll the dice on a new experience.

Start of the hike with Indy leading the way

Wet! That's what you get for hiking at cloud level

Our overnight stay was in a village that has a population of 43 (give or take). They (happily) got electricity a few years ago, but there's no internet, no municipal services or other niceties. (Yup, that means no toilets ergo no bathrooms with nice things like sinks and tap water to wash.) The hike into the village was going to take approximately 6 hours, so we were quite pleased to do it in 5.5. The weather was not cooperative. The rain started on the bus ride up and continued to dog us through most of the trek. When the wind joined it, it made the going pretty unpleasant. The walk is about 11 kilometres (a little under 7 miles), but you have to pass through a summit in the mountains that takes you up to almost 4200 metres (13,812 feet). Okay, so you start at around 3700 metres, but still, it's a steep slog up that hill over a very short span of time, especially in crappy weather.

While the wind and rain were pretty unrelenting, we were happy to be heading down hill. In a small village called Baute, a lady was kind enough to let us shelter in her house, to warm up and have something to eat. She and our guide exchanged pleasantries (and money changed hands, I'm sure). She told us that she gets visitors maybe 5 times a year, and most are couples who are lost in the wilds of the Cajas. Let that be a cautionary tale for you, should you decide to visit.

Baute in better weather (on the return trip)

Taking off the chill in a local homestead

Photo by Bob Itami

Photo by Bob Itami

The cloud finally started lifting as we arrived at our destination. The laguna was beautiful and the valley was spotted with buildings with grass covered rooves. We could finally make out the soaring arcs of the surrounding mountains and the sun made an appearance.

The village is picturesque and even houses a small cemetery dating back to the late 1800s. There is a school that the children from Baute also attend. The school has 11 students.

Half-century old homestead in Patul

Life in the village is quite humbling. The farm animals are abundant and the chickens love to wander through the houses at will. They're often chased back outside with a broom or swift foot in their direction, but seem undeterred about finding a cozy roost somewhere inside. The house that we stayed in was made from adobe and cinder block and lacked doors or glass in the windows.(Like most of the houses in the area.) 

The openings are covered with whatever scraps can be found, like old plastic feed bags, tarps and the occasional animal skin. The interior flooring of the home we stayed in was a combination of dirt, concrete and wood. The kitchen seems to be the heart of the home, which is pretty universal, but not all homes sport a very pregnant guinea pig, tucked in a warm corner. The entire family gathers in the one room, cooking over an open fire and nestling up on benches against the walls to stave off the cold.

The family was incredibly gracious and somehow managed to feed the 11 of us from the tiny kitchen, not just once but three times. 

The cooking fire, no stove, just open flame.
Photo by Bob Itami

Meals have no definition here, there is no cereal for breakfast or sandwiches for lunch. All meals come with rice, potatoes and some form of protein. The vegetables that we ate were brought in, except for the broad beans, which I believe probably are their main source of vitamins. The trout must be running as we had beautiful little fish for both lunch and breakfast the next day. Our dinner consisted of freshly butchered chicken. I'm pretty sure that one of the photos I took is of our dinner. The children were tasked with catching the birds and putting them in a bag, presumably to calm the fowl before their imminent demise. This is life on a farm and gave me a clear understanding that if it were up to me to dispatch the meat, I'd probably be vegetarian or pescatarian. 

Delicious or darling, you decide

Somehow, more palatable

Dinner, anyone?

The temperature never hit double digits the day we arrived and dropped to below zero in the night. You could actually feel it as we sat in a small circle huddled under the only light bulb in the main living area enjoying the fruits of the family farm. We called it a day before 8pm, seeking to get away from the cold, by curling up in our sleeping bags and finding oblivion. It was then that the family gathered and ate their own meal. 

Abuelita y nieta (grandma and granddaughter), staying warm
Photo by Bob Itami

There is no early to bed, even for a farming family. It wasn't a restful night, between the cold, the noise of the family and the farm animals outside, the dogs running amok in the middle of the night and sharing a room with almost the whole group made for a challenged sleep. I rather hate how much of a slave I am to my little routines and luxurious comforts.  

Our neighbours for the night

One of the boys took a chair and turned it into a motorcycle with a few sticks and an amazing imagination, he played on that with his siblings and cousins for the rest of the night. If that isn't a life lesson, I don't know what is.

We were up at daylight, around 6 am and on the road before 9am.   Before leaving, I had an unfortunate interaction with a thistle plant while using the outdoor "facilities". Mental note, don't do that...even if the plant looks innocuous it can still git ya. I had welts the size of quarters for most of the day and a prickling sensation that I cannot recommend.

The return journey was grueling. We all knew it would be challenging, having walked down the track to get to Patul, but little did we know it would be a 3 hour+ ascension, with unrelenting hills and only the smallest respites of level ground. There were a few times when my legs were burning and begging me to rest, but the cold wouldn't allow it. Once at the summit, we still had another couple of hours down to get to the parking area where our transportation would be waiting. Despite the physical demands of the hike back out, the weather was much more cooperative, offering sunshine and blue skies (with a cold wind), with the clouds still threatening to gather, causing us to keep a brisk pace. It was one of the hardest hikes I've done so far, but none of us gave up and we made it back to the parking lot in a respectable 5 and a half hours. The whole group deserves a good round of applause for taking on such a demanding trek and making it without incident.

Ever upward

Trail Warriors

The road travelled, looking back to the valley

It was an eye opening experience, one that I'll remember for a long time and one that will make me more grateful for the life I have, and appreciative of how well other people manage, no not just manage, but thrive and enjoy, a life with so much less comfort than I have. If you ever have the opportunity to experience something like this, take it, embrace it and appreciate how privileged we actually are to have doors and internet and a ready supply of water coming out of our taps, not to mention the other trappings of "civilised" life. We don't need more, in truth, we could probably do with a whole lot less and, for me, that's comforting in its own way. I can survive with less, I can be happy with less and the world would continue to turn.