We left the Devil’s Nose Train behind with just enough time that afternoon to get a hotel room and settle in for the night. We’d already had the Hosteria Andaluza booked, which is just on the outside of the city of Riobamba (pretty name; not so pretty city!)
The Andaluza is an elegant, antique-filled hacienda standing in the shadows of the snow-capped Chimborazo volcano. I’ll be writing a blog about the hotels we stayed in later, but suffice it to say we were totally thrilled ~ fresh chocolates and rose petals on the bed and all!
One off-beat little town was Pelileo, the Ecuadorian epicenter for jeans. Yep, that’s right. Store after store had big-butted, skinny-legged, mannequins wearing super tight jeans. It’s a wonder they got them on the dummies, let alone real people. Lord knows I couldn’t have managed it!
Anyway, we dropped off the PanAmerican highway and landed into the Baños town square. That’s where the A for Amor (love) comes in. Okay, so sue us. We couldn’t resist taking corny pictures on the “Bridge of Love”. Hey, if you’re going to play tourist, you might as well do it up, right?
We then explored this great little walking town, past one souvenir shop or tour company after another, trying to decide what we wanted to do for the next A: Adventure. Then they caught our eyes. Cool little dune-buggy-like carts you could rent to go up the “Route of Waterfalls”. That’s it! Just the ticket! Adventure, Exploring, Independence - what’s not to like?
Sure wish I had pictures of that one. The oh-so-pleasant off the road path we’d all envisioned turned out to be a main thoroughfare ~ dark, wet tunnels and all. Sure, sometimes there were bike paths paralleling the tunnels, but did we take them? No, of course not. Cars, buses and trucks whizzed ominously behind and all around us ~ we with no lights in the tunnels~ and going 35 miles an hour max. Lovely. What a way to go. I’m not typically one for prayers, but they definitely came out often on that little jaunt.
Our first stop on the route was where you could zip-line or take an aerial tram across a gorge beautifully punctuated by a waterfall. I’m a wimp when it comes to heights, and this one was way more than any I’d dared in Costa Rica. So Cindy and I watched the guys suit up and fly to the other side. But woops! They didn’t make it. There they were, dangling yards away from the cliff, waiting to be towed in by this one poor little guy handling at least one way bigger Gringo. I would’ve freaked.
A for Altitude. The next stop was one I knew I had to do. It was a walk down to a waterfall where apparently you could go swimming. It was definitely stunning, thundering spray that created a full rainbow. The climb back up was tough, though, with its steep stairs and perilous heights - plus we were in the Andes highlands to boot. I was really feeling my age. Dang!
When we finally got back into town, it was time to get up to the hotel. Yep. UP again. The Casa Amarilla (Yellow House) could only be accessed by horse or a 20 minute hike - UP a rough dirt path. Yes, with heavy backpacks in tow. And the liquid refreshments bought in town to help us crash. Oh, joy!
Actually, this little inn was well worth the trek. It’s a lovely place overlooking the town with sweet young hosts. Sufficiently pooped, we flopped into bed early. After all, tomorrow was Quito day. On the road again...
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