Like good Norwegians, Silje and I had decided to spend our Sunday hiking and were determined to do it come rain or shine. We knew there was a 99% chance of rain. Like a good Norwegian, Silje had waterproofed her (proper) hiking boots. I have spent too much time in California and though my pseudo-hiking shoes were waterproofed that doesn´t help much when they have several mesh holes on the top... Having said that, I did come prepared with a bright yellow rain poncho that I had traded for a booklet on "the miracle of garlic" at my sidewalk sale in San Francisco... Let the torrential rains begin!

We made our way to the town plaza where we´d catch a bus to Quilotoa. It was market day in town - the biggest event of the week - which meant a few handfulls of stalls selling foodstuffs, prepared foods, CDs, psychedelic-colored knee-socks and any other items needed for daily life in a small town. Peasants paraded their sheep around while others arranged their produce into neat piles. We waited for the bus which, of course, left late :-)

We arrived in Quilotoa just before 11am. Our plan for the day was to visit the crater lake and then make our way back to Chugchilan on foot, accompanied by two other guests from the BSI, Jamie from the US and Aurelie from France. This particular trail was touted as one of Ecuador´s most beautiful and scenic walks, and we were excited. But first things first, at an altitude of 3,800m it was freezing cold and I decided to buy a pair of gloves. Had I known it would take over half an hour to get change, I may have reconsidered. Though still sunny, I knew it was just a matter of time before the weather would change.

Meanwhile, we had a stunning view of the lake and its opal green water now filling in where the volcanic cone had once been. We got to enjoy the view for almost another hour as we hiked a quarter of the way around the crater to the trailhead. After much ado and consulting our map numerous times, we made it to the start of our hike. I admit we would have been completely lost without the BSI´s excellent map and trail desciption, but how on earth would a bunch of first-timers in the area confidently and with confusion recognize what and where "the third and biggest low lying wide patch of sand" would be? I bow in deference to those who didn´t find this particular instruction slightly mind-boggling!

Right before we got to the third and biggest low lying wide patch of sand, clouds rolled in to obscur our view and start the daily watering process loved by everyone but the visiting tourists. Due to the altitude I had found the hike up and down steep hills around the crater quite strenuous, so with the added rain I´ll admit I was slightly dreading the hours still ahead of us.

We followed the directions on the back of our map, and despite walking through the clouds managed to spot and "stay to the left of the eucalyptus trees". None of us saw any diverging paths, so we pushed on and suddenly found ourselves on the wrong side of a deep ravine, in the poring rain. Doh! Oh well, we sat down under some trees and ate our delicious packed lunch from the BSI. Fortified, we pressed on downhill and came to a bridge which crossed the ravine and took us to the right-ish path which in turn led back to the main trail. Danger over! From there on in it was a breeze, with signs leading the way. As an added bonus, the clouds lifted once in a while revealing gorgeous views and giving my pants time to dry out a little before the next downpour.

We were soon at the halfway point, a little village filled with people sheltering in doorways and vicious dogs attacking anyone daring to cross their territory. Silje was caught fighting back two of the little bastards with her walking stick for a good 10 minutes. When she finally got away, the dogs immediately attacked a frail looking old lady who looked like she could barely walk. Having spent her life fighting the beasts, she didn´t need any help but expertly got away much quicker than any of us would have managed. I was impressed :-) Our walk through the village drew curious stares from the locals who wisely stood sheltered while us weird foreigners were out sloshing in the rain, not because we had to but because we had chosen to...

Beyond the village, the trail narrowed to barely 10cm wide as we descended down to the bottom of a canyon on a path carved by water through rock. On the way down we met quite a few locals, all carrying various loads, probably from the market in Chugchilan. One family was accompanied by a horse, and I seriously wondered how it would make it through the narrow canyon walls.

The weather cleared up slightly, and we were treated to a spectacular view of the canyon and of Chugchilan on the other side. Starting with the crater lake and ending with this, I could clearly see why the walk is considered "one of the most beautiful in Ecuador".

The path was steep and the bottom came way too fast. We crossed the river which was just narrow enough to easily jump over, and started the long walk uphill into town. During one long, rainy hour we ascended from 2,600m to 3,200m. At the end, the road changed into a stream making us all look and feel like drowned cats. We took it slow and hoped that each hill would be the last. The rain kept us cool and, looking on the bright side, that last hour may have been far more excruciating in the baking sun :-)

When we finally reached Chugchilan, the skies seemed intent on spraying us like a garden hose during our final "walk of shame" through the market square. With the CD stall blaring absurd cartoonish music, we crossed the square feeling as if part of a weird surrealist movie. The villagers were all huddled dry and smug inside doorways and under awnings, no doubt wondering why on earth we were doing this to ourselves. We were all kind of giggling as we slowly crossed the square, not caring anymore that we were soaked and tired. What does that matter when you´ve just done a fabulously beautiful hike, have a hot shower waiting, and will spend the rest of the evening in front of the fireplace drinking wine and playing cards?