Understand, the highly esteemed El Perezoso*, aka Erin Noble, remains the truest of companions. But as anyone who has seen the two of us interact might expect, we have gotten into some ridiculous fights. By far the most impressivly absurd began on Saturday April 5th, as we walked towards the bus station from our apartment, en route to Cotopaxi, the most famously picturesque of all Ecuadorian volcanoes. Erin pulled out his trusty digital camera, held it in front of us, but before he could say "siete" I had launched into my anti-camera rant. He had heard it before, everyone has, especially Jenny Huang, but this time it really set him off. We walked to the station shouting at eachother in English, creating a truly ridiculous backpacking gringos scene.
Well, we made up and had a fantastic time on Cotopaxi. Erin took less pictures than he would of (probably), and I satisfied myself with my vaunted mental pictures**. I won the battle; there are no closeups of my face with an indistinct mountain in the background. But I lost the war. There are no pictures whatsoever of Cotopaxi for the enjoyment of my friends and family. I recently apologized to Noble for being such a pendejo (our spanish equivalent of jerkface), and we now have an understanding on cameras and pictures.
But that doesn´t help out the esteemed reader of this here blog. And my mental pictures of Cotopaxi are stunning, really, but there are a bit hard to download. So, as punishment of sorts, i´m going to try to describe just what the Andes are like to hike around in.
My first impression? Impressively...non-descript. A bit dull. Big and bland. See pictures of Ruco Pichincha for a more pictoral idea. The Andes are like the desert. It takes some time to appreciate the beauty and diversity of life that they contain. Well, three days on the slopes of Cotopaxi blew me away. I fell in love, just like I did with the desert after a few trips.
The cloud forests (bosque humido) cover the lower slopes of the Andes. They are spectacular, and obviously so. See pictures of Mindo for examples of gorgeous wildlife and lush tropical forest. But by 3000-4000 meters or so, the páramo takes over as trees disappear due to the high altitude. Oddly, the páramo is heavily vegetated, with bare rock only appearing on vertical faces. Extreme UV radiation and occasional snow (at the equator!) minimize the size of plants, yet at the same time the abundant moisture and lack of snowpack allow plants to grow year round. A strange combination, for sure.
I´ve divided the páramo into two types, paja and alpine meadow. The paja is a type of long grass that forms tussocks a few feet in circumfrence and a few feet tall. It extensively covers large areas, with tussocks growing separately but forming a minicanopy a couple feet high. This makes it impossible to see where you are putting your feet when hiking through it, and leads to a thoroughly miserable hiking experience. Twisted ankles are abundant and the going is frustratingly slow. Traversing a steep hillside covered in paja often involves more hands than feet. Oh, and I nearly forgot, after a rain (which is always) it is sopping wet and quickly soaks through boots and pants. I really can´t express strongly enough my dislike for hiking through this accursed plant.
Alpine meadow type páramo, on the other hand, is a dream to walk through. It is thoroughly covered in tiny lichens, mosses, fungi and all sorts of other really cool tiny plants. Wildflowers abound, yet are tiny, and usually escape notice. This is percfect landscape for rambling. Nothing to obstruct the way, and a hundred beautiful tiny things to check out with a handlens.
The landscape itself is fascinating as well, particularly because the lack of trees leaves the true form revealed. The climate is very wet, with near constant clouds, which produces impresssive erosional features. Quebradas (canyons/valleys/draws/gulches/defiles) grow to epic proportions quite quickly, and can be found on the macro and micro scale. Nearly every dirt road is incised well below the surrounding páramo as a result of this erosion, revealing beautifully stratified sedimentary layers beneath. They often display a pumice-ash sequence, topped off by a thick organic layer, testifying to the strong volcanic influence on the land.
The gentle and soft appearance does not get seriously challenged till nearly 5000m, as vegetation finally gives up the feet and raw rock takes over. Finally, snow and ice dominate, and the classic Andean images of verticality and volcanoes emerge.
I´ve divided the páramo into two types, paja and alpine meadow. The paja is a type of long grass that forms tussocks a few feet in circumfrence and a few feet tall. It extensively covers large areas, with tussocks growing separately but forming a minicanopy a couple feet high. This makes it impossible to see where you are putting your feet when hiking through it, and leads to a thoroughly miserable hiking experience. Twisted ankles are abundant and the going is frustratingly slow. Traversing a steep hillside covered in paja often involves more hands than feet. Oh, and I nearly forgot, after a rain (which is always) it is sopping wet and quickly soaks through boots and pants. I really can´t express strongly enough my dislike for hiking through this accursed plant.
Alpine meadow type páramo, on the other hand, is a dream to walk through. It is thoroughly covered in tiny lichens, mosses, fungi and all sorts of other really cool tiny plants. Wildflowers abound, yet are tiny, and usually escape notice. This is percfect landscape for rambling. Nothing to obstruct the way, and a hundred beautiful tiny things to check out with a handlens.
The landscape itself is fascinating as well, particularly because the lack of trees leaves the true form revealed. The climate is very wet, with near constant clouds, which produces impresssive erosional features. Quebradas (canyons/valleys/draws/gulches/defiles) grow to epic proportions quite quickly, and can be found on the macro and micro scale. Nearly every dirt road is incised well below the surrounding páramo as a result of this erosion, revealing beautifully stratified sedimentary layers beneath. They often display a pumice-ash sequence, topped off by a thick organic layer, testifying to the strong volcanic influence on the land.
The gentle and soft appearance does not get seriously challenged till nearly 5000m, as vegetation finally gives up the feet and raw rock takes over. Finally, snow and ice dominate, and the classic Andean images of verticality and volcanoes emerge.
So now I am an Andinista, because i like the Andinismo. Chévere.
Many more updates coming this week, all sorts of exciting things have been happening. I was accepted to Hawaii Volcanoes Observatory for a fall internship, I had a birthday, and I´m about to leave for Puno.
El Guía Perdido
* the word perezoso translates to "lazy" en español, but more impressively, it is the common name in Spanish for the beloved sloth.
** The Mental Picture - perfect for those who don´t like to interrupt the moment with a camera. Here´s how you do it. First of all, don´t be greedy. No more than one a day, usually. It has to come to you. You´re hiking in the mountains, or wherever, and all of a sudden you stop and get a really good feeling about where you are. Stay stopped. Don´t move. Spend at least five minutes rooted to the spot. Look all around you, note the fine details and the grand details. Discuss, with yourself, what makes this spot special. Feel the air, smell the vegetation, remember where you came from and where you are going. Frame the picture that you want to remember in your mind. And really let it sink in. Dig the tranquility of where you are. And I guarentee you will remember it for years to come. Its just kinda hard to share with other people.
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1 comment:
What type of snake are you holding in your pictures of Mondo?
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