I reserved two nights at a hacienda in Cotopaxi, an expansive national park of flatlands and hills with golden-green brush: a land of wild horses, condors, lagoons, and cattle, with looming active and dormant volcanos. Getting there from Quito (a mere 41kms away) required an hour taxi to the city’s southern bus terminal, then nearly two hours of bus (there are frequent loading and unloading of passengers) to Machachi. I was dropped off on the side of the Panamericana (the appropriately named highway that travels 30,000 Kms through North, Central, and South America). Crossing the highway to enter the town a large statue of rearing bronco and rider greeted me.

On the narrower street were a few tiendas(small shops) and not much else. I asked a man about a taxi and he told me one would come by. Sure enough a white pick-up truck pulled up, but when I gave the name of the hacienda “Chilcabamba” the driver gave me a blank look. He kindly assured me someone else would know where it was. But a few more inquiries met with the same blank look.

I was told the ride would cost from $25 to $30 to travel the very poor road an additional 16kms. So when a driver finally “knew the place” and offered to take me for $15, I was pleasantly surprised.

The cobbled and rutted road through the small communidads was very slow going. Manuel, the driver maneuvered between the paths of least resistance-a bumpy, unsteady ride that challenged his talents of navigation. After a while, he stopped an on coming motorcyclist. Having lived in the area his entire life I thought he was greeting a friend. It soon became clear he was asking directions to Chilcabamba. It would be another slow and steady slog before we finally reached my destination. He conveniently didn’t have change for my $20. I didn’t press the issue.

I settled into my room warmed with a wood burning stove. The bed had several blankets. Mornings, once the fire went out would be chilly.

Volcán Cotopaxi is an impressive sight. Her snow capped peak stands at 5897 meters and bears a coquettish air often veiled in clouds. She is alive and well and showed signs of life in 2015 restricting access to her summit-a disappointment for hardcore climbers-but I had no intention to climb her. (Residents live with the threat of her eruption and evacuation routes with warning signs are displayed throughout the area.)

I was here to ride horses and arranged for a three-hour ride with Rafael. I was invited to wear a wool poncho, similar to his, and donned it awhile to ward off the chill, but found it cumbersome and resorted to my down vest and Goretex jacket. Thus when we approached a small group of riders all wearing ponchos I assumed they were turistas too.

As we neared, all the men had the brown tinted skin of the locals. Their ponchos were tightly woven, their rubber boots fit securely in the stirrups and their postures spoke of a knowledge in the saddle that my body was doing its best to recall. Rafael chatted awhile and learned these chagras (cowboys) were on the lookout for a stray bull. Their pack of dogs happily accompanied them while chasing rabbits.

Rafael and I rode the rest of the time seeing no one, despite covering many miles. My horse was responsive and sure-footed. The wind blew in hearty gusts and a mist of rain came and went. A fog shrouded the scenery drastically reducing our visibility before lifting to reveal the stark, hilly landscape.

In the distance, circling above, were birds soaring, large and far off all at once. Only condors offer such an impressive sight. Their nearly 3 meter wingspan offer a grace and majesty incongruous with their ungainly bodies and grotesque heads. It was a charmed viewing.

A hot shower was welcome after my ride. I spoke with a Swiss couple at dinner and went to bed not long afterwards content to gaze at the warming flames from the well-stocked stove.

I remained in Cotopaxi a total of four nights to ride again, hike, and enjoy the vistas before heading on to Latacunga.

Volcán Cotopaxi slept the entire time.

To be continued…