Relatively free from the constraints of Quito and Guayaquil, Cuenca has all the colonial charm without the pollution, barrio slums and frenetic pace of commercial development. As you walk the cobbled streets of the city the first thing that strikes you is the beauty of the buildings. Colour washed walls with architectural mouldings and small balconies overlook the streets. The red clay tiles of

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In Norse mythology Valhalla is the hall in which Odin entertained the slain heroes of battle for eternity. One night was long enough for me! The only people that appear to stay in this pink monstrosity are groups waiting for transfer to Cotopaxi or preparing by climbing Illiniza Norte. Luckily we only needed to spend one night there before making the transfer ourselves. Our fellow guests in

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Christmas away from home was always going to be a bit of a strange affair, but the combination of the warm climate and the knowledge that we will be away from home till May gave Christmas a somewhat melancholy tone. We decided that on Christmas Day we were going to rest and recover in and around the inn, but in retrospect, that probably gave us a little too much time to reflect on what we weren’t

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Half an hour in the back of a truck and 600m of vertical ascent brought us out on the top of the hillside that overlooks the Black Sheep Inn. From there it was just a short walk under the watchful eye of our young guide Rodrigo, to reach the entrance to the cloud forest.The landscape at the crown of the hill is a good example of the local high altitude Parámo. In many ways it reminded me of

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We were thrown left and right inside the pick-up truck as the driver skillfully negotiated the rutted and potholed dirt road to Laguna Quilotoa. The fifteen of us were moving in unison, the scouts at the front looking out for low hanging branches. As we climbed the 700 vertical metres a sensational panorama opened up down the valley. The hills ran down to a plateau and then into a 400 metre deep

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A light rain began to fall as we were boarding the bus. With our bags stashed on the roof we took possession of our seats in anticipation of a full house. Gradually over the next hour a constant stream of indigenous families joined us having deposited their copious baggage on the roof. Thud followed thud as bags of onions, hi-fi systems, televisions and eventually an ornate, but thankfully empty

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Latacunga doesn´t look like much from the Pan-American. A collection of non-descript concrete shops catering for the passing buses plying the route from Quito to Ambato and onward to Baños or Cuenca. At best, it is seen as the staging post for people interested in the completing the Quilotoa loop; and if we are honest that is pretty much how we saw it. However, once you cross the Rio Cutuchi

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After the storms in the morning our canyoning trip was put back until the afernoon. As it happened, this was the ideal outcome as by midday the menacing storms had blown down the valley to be replaced by blue skys and the occasional fluffy cumulus. After collecting our moth eaten and battered wetsuits and tasteful footwear we were shepherded into a waiting flatbed pickup with our canyoning

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Initial reports of an imminent eruption were greatly exaggerated!On our return from the internet café we thought we would swing by the tourist information office to find out what the prognosis was for the re-opening of the paths that were said to be shut. “Eruptions like this happen every week; it’s nothing to be concerned about. Everything is open as usual” came the reassuring response from the

Simon

The last couple of days have been great fun. I think that we are now starting to settle into the rhythm of the road. It does take a while to get used to living out of your rucksack and eatingall your meals in restaurants. So far we´ve been really lucky with the rooms and food (read Sarah´s blog to find out more about our room booking exploits). The Petit Auberge is our current place of abode and

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This morning we were woken by birdsong and some sinister scratching on the roof of our room. Sarah gave me a nudge as it sounded ominously like our ratty friends that scurry across the roof space in North Wraxall. Like any husband worth his salt, I dismissed the scratching to avoid having to investigate. In the end, the scratching became to persistent to deny so I admitted defeat and got up to

Simon

Otavalo Otavalo Otavalo!The shrill tremolo of the bus drivers assistant as he hung out of the door soliciting passengers. Our fellow travelers were a mixture of mestizos, indigenous people and tourists. Saturday is market day and the magnetic draw of Otavalo, the biggest and probably most commercial market in Ecuador brings traders from far and wide. As we trundled through the barrios ofQuito

Simon

OtavaloOtavaloOtavalo! The shrill tremolo of the bus drivers assistant as he hung out of the door soliciting passengers. Our fellow travelers were a mixture of mestizos, indigenous people and tourists. Saturday is market day and the magnetic draw of Otavalo, the biggest and probably most commercial market in Ecuador brings traders from far and wide. As we trundled through the barrios of Quito

Simon

I am writing this in a jet lagged state in our hostel room in Quito. Sarah is asleep and my body is crying out to do the same. An early start from Gatwick on Thursday saw us arrive into Houston (or as it is more grandly known, 'George Bush Intercontinental') at around 2pm. After a two hour turnaround we ere onboard our second Continental flight, this time to Quito. Or so we thought. On

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