48 hours in Baños

Staying in Baños for two weeks and not doing anything fun would be a bit like visiting Disney World and spending the whole time in the parking lot. It’s impossible to walk around this town and not notice the dozens of tour agencies offering rafting trips, ATV rentals, spa packages and an array of extreme sports activities. So when Lauren, my new American friend and fellow Idealist blogger, said she’d come down for the weekend, I was both happy and relieved. Traveling alone is loneliest when you want to have fun, so her visit was all the excuse I needed to drop everything for the weekend. On Friday we hit most of the major bars and clubs on the aptly nicknamed Calle de Perdición, (Downfall Street). We hung out with a variety of foreigners and Ecuadorians over the course of the night and headed back to our respective homes at a completely unreasonable hour for what he had planned the next day.

The view from our roof. Baños de Agua Santa was named for its many hot springs (baños=baths), fed by Volcan Tungurahua.

Early the next morning, we staggered into the market and pounded down fruit juices before heading to a nearby restaurant for second breakfast. We mutually supported our efforts to overcome exhaustion as we signed forms and got the keys to our dune buggy, Chippy. I wanted to name the car Chippy because it reminded me of a skinny and sorry-looking kitten by the same name in Pucará, which refused to eat anything but rice. Chippy was a good car and it got us all the way to the end of La Ruta de las Cascadas (The Route of the Waterfalls), but as you’ll see, that car was always destined for the scrap heap.

Driving along la Ruta de las Cascadas

After driving for a few minutes you are immediately confronted with an intimidating proposition: “would you like to jump off a bridge?” We got out, and watched as a group of girls leapt from the bridge and swung underneath, gripping their bungee cord and screaming louder than I thought possible. For us, the question wasn’t a matter of if, but when we were going to do it. In my limited experience with adrenalin sports, it’s best to treat them like band aids. “Let’s just get this over with.” We rock-paper-scissored to see who’d go first, and since Lauren stupidly went scissors three times in a row at the end, I beat her and she went first. You can’t help but feel nervous for her. At a bargain of only $15 per jump, it seemed a little too inexpensive to be safe.

Haha, I'm going to die.

Then it was my turn. I decided to try something different, because although filming it from the bridge is an intense experience, the fear is even better conveyed from the first-person perspective. So I filmed my own jump. Oh and just so you know, there is understandably some swearing in this video. That’s what happens when you get up close. And no, I didn’t literally sh** my pants. It’s a figure of speech.

We drank some water afterward, because you tend to lose your voice when faced with imminent death, and after 20 minutes of trying we got the car started and continued on. Driving and giggling like school kids, we passed some beautiful scenery before stopping at one of the bigger waterfalls, Cascada Manto de la Novia.

Obviously I couldn’t take the camera with me between and behind the waterfalls, which is a shame because it was a beautiful and awe-inspiring experience to be so close. I washed away the sweat and fear from my earlier jump and after a friendly chat with some American college kids, we were off again.

As if that waterfall wasn’t enough, we soon after discovered El Pailón del Diablo. Hiking down the valley to the waterfall, I was glad to see that the vast majority of tourists around us were Ecuadorian. I have always been uncomfortable with the tendency for the tourism industry here to cater exclusively to foreigners, but at least here in Baños, the town’s surrounding attractions are enjoyed by locals in droves. We paid our $1 entrance fee, and hiked up to the waterfall. You can actually get all the way to the top and behind it, climbing and crawling through some impossibly narrow caves along the way. I tried to get as close as possible without destroying my camera (the theme of the weekend), so that hopefully you can appreciate the sheer power of the cascading water.

Then we descended to the look-out for the obligatory photo-ops. There was a family that occupied the best spot for 15-20 minutes, as the teenage daughter tried unsuccessfully to look sexy in each photo. With outspread arms and one knee slightly raised and bent, like a showgirl on the Price is Right, the effect was lost on us. Maybe it was because her kid-brother couldn’t frame the picture right, or perhaps because like any good Ecuadorian, she refused to smile, but after trying over and over again she finally gave up, grabbing the camera from the boy’s hands and marching up the stairs. We took some quick pictures and a video before eating lunch down the path.

People often mistake Lauren for being Cuban or Brazilian. With skin that alternates between marshmallow white and hotdog red, I don't have that problem.

It began to rain. The water came down in sheets during lunch and after some debate, we reluctantly hiked back up the trail during the height of the storm. Soaking wet, we got back to Chippy and I turned the key. Nothing. This time the ignition seemed to have truly died. A kid came over to collect the parking fee and I asked him if he had a dad or anyone who knew anything about cars. He said no, but that he could help. Nonchalantly, he took the key and used the metal end to connect the current from the battery in the back of the engine. It started to turn over. I felt both grateful and ashamed that a boy of no more than 8 was about to get the car started. But despite his efforts, it didn’t quite make it. He and I alternately tried our luck for a while, but it seemed that the rain had done its damage. His older brother came over and offered to help, too, fiddling with the wires while I pumped the gas and the little kid connected the current. After another 20 minutes of trying, for no reason at all, Chippy miraculously came back to life. We thanked them profusely and threw them a couple bucks for their help. We were off again.

By this point, the car was having serious problems. Clearly we couldn’t shut it off because there was no telling if it would start again. We also found out the hard way that the reverse stick didn’t work, so every time we needed to turn around, we had to get out and either push or physically lift the car up to get out.

These problems were relatively minor and kind of funny, making the trip more interesting if anything. But when the axel connecting the steering wheel fell off, nearly sending us off a cliff, I could see that Chippy’s problems were more than surface deep. If we had been going faster, we probably would have crashed. And without helmets or seatbelts (our choice), the accident would have been serious. But our luck held and with some creative problem solving, we were able to make it back to the main road.

Without cellphone service, we couldn’t call the agency for help. So we tried to flag down cars with guys that looked like the knew how to fix cars, but while some slowed down to stare, none stopped. I eventually walked to a nearby house and asked an older-looking man if there was a phone we could use. There wasn’t, but he had some tools and offered to help. His name was Despacito, which I think translates as ‘The Little Slow One’, and he brought over some old rusty wrenches to try to tighten the bolt that had come loose. We worked on it for a half-hour, taking turns pulling and swearing, but it was no use. The bolt was stripped and the screw was old and rusted over. It became clear that we wouldn’t be driving back to Baños.

Despacito and I trying to fix the steering wheel.

With no way to fix the car and no way to call for help, we abandoned it at the side of the road and caught a bus back into town.

The last time we saw Chippy.

As you might imagine, the guys at the tour agency looked alarmed when we showed up four hours later than we said we would and without the car. I told them that they’d find it by the side of the road after the last tunnel, near Machay. We haggled down the price of the rental, arguing (fairly) that we had spent a lot of time trying to fix the car and that it had also almost killed us. So we got a big ol’ discount, headed back to take much-needed showers and met up later for dinner and round two of bar-hopping.

Splurging on fine french cuisine in the middle of Ecuador. Two three-course meals and wine still cost less than a burger at TGI Fridays.

With only three hours of sleep and raging headaches for the second day in a row, we once again went to the market, drank exotic juices and ate some empanadas. We were going canyoning, which is so far the best term anyone has come up with to describe repelling/climbing down a series of waterfalls. We met our guide at the office, who happened to be at the same bar the night before and who had probably got even less sleep than we had. I immediately liked him, sensing that we shared a similar outlook on life. We picked up a third girl from Australia on the way to the waterfalls and after a short safety talk and a quick hike, we were suddenly in harnesses and staring down the first waterfall.

Lauren repels down the first waterfall.

This was a lot of fun, definitely worth trying.

Our experience was excellent and if you ever come to Baños, I highly recommend doing the riskier activities with Rainforestur. Our guide, Marco, was very fast and responsible and we later found out that he’s also a trained emergency rescuer, who had just last month saved two kids from drowning in the river.

The three of us safely and happily at the bottom.

By late afternoon, we were exhausted. We ate a relaxed lunch and Lauren caught a bus back to Quito. I went back home, showered, read and relaxed the rest of the day away. At night, I had the bizarre experience of watching the Oscars with my host family. They’re comparatively well-off and have access to satellite tv– which is great because now I can catch up on Jersey Shore. But the Oscars were poorly dubbed over in Spanish and all the humor of Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin was sadly lost in translation.

I’ll leave you with this last image. Batidos, or milkshakes, are one of the best parts of traveling in Ecuador. I am already mentally preparing for withdrawel when I get back to America.

Advertisement