Sangay National Park was inscribed as a Natural World Heritage Site in 1983. The park covers some 517 765ha of varied ecosystems, encompassing all types of habitats from glaciers to rainforests, plains to volcanoes. El Altar (or Cápac Urdu in Quechua) is an extinct volcano that is said to have once possibly been the highest mountain in the world, but it blew its top. What remains is a rim of 9 major peaks of up to 5404m surrounding a huge crater.
DAY 1: Having met the owner of Hacienda Releche, Otovalo, who had just spent a year in Melbourne helping David Hayes train his thoroughbreds. I set out all-smiles, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. It was a tough and exhausting day. Although the track was wide and straightforward it was consistently uphill, and starting at 3200m with a 20kg pack was not too fun or good for my cranky old-man back. On the way I was passed by a group of equines loaded up with several humans and their equipment. Everyone there (except for the mules & The Mule) appeared to be having a rather fine time of it thanks very much, including one guy drinking a beer! The beauty of the mountains and El Altar slowly revealed itself throughout the day, and culminated when I finally reached the Collantes Plain which hosts the headwaters of the River Blanco. A long, steep valley and wide, boulder-strewn plain ending in El Altar`s snow-capped dignitaries. Amazing.
I stopped next to the refugio to admire the valley for a while then set out for the base of the crater where scattered cloud forest provided shelter for camping. This took longer than I thought. It was very boggy and uphill. When I finally arrived I was in an altered state - time passed very slowly and everything was quite trippy and heavy. Another group including 3 older French climbers I`d met on the way up were going up to the crater that afternoon but I physically was not able to. I ate and eventually went to sleep, horrible as it was. Sleeping on a slope at about 4000m , not recommended.
DAY 2: The next morning I discovered I had many cheeky birds including hummingbirds as neighbours. The patches of cloud forest around were beautiful, very reminiscent of cool temperate rainforests in Australia. The birds and I were soon joined by a Park ranger who took my money and described the journey to the south for me. Then I set out next to a dramatic waterfall for the crater rim, another few hundred metres up. After the again exhaustive uphill I was more than rewarded. A gigantic turquoise lake at the bottom of the colossal crater, its in places 1000m high walls a mesmerising blend of grey-black stone, light green paramo (upland grassland and swamp) and snow. The lake is constantly being fed by glacier melt. I kept my quasi-promise to myself to try to swim whereever possible - however the water wasn`t too warm so it was more like a quick bush shower but who`s counting¿ I also discovered the bush with the purple lilly-pilly type fruit I had so enjoyed in lower Patagonia - what? Such an enormous range - it seemed only to be growing above 4000m there though as I hadn`t seen it before.
Then I saw one of the only 40 condors left in Ecuador sunning itself on the rock directly next to the waterfall. They`re pretty big!! He eventually flew off as I paparazzied closer. The cloudy morning made the views of the mountains not as clear as I would have liked but hopefully you all get a good idea! After a massive breakfast I set out to do a day hike from my guidebook map, one that leads to campsites to climb the northern spires of El Altar. I exited the valley, crossed the referenced creek and saw what I thought was my track switchbacking up a hill to the east. It was bound to cross my creek, I vaguely guessed but believed anyway. So I rockhopped up the beautiful stream, marvellng at the gorgeous vegetation and cascades. Soon I decided it was time to exit to find my trail. I had come to a very steep hill to climb. Oh well, grab onto the grass and head straight up. It was very tough even packless. After what seemed like well long enough I still hadn`t crossed the path so I sat down and had some lunch. Upon inspection `the path`was just a cow track that seemed to finish before it got to me.
So I made my own cross-country trek through the paramo into the valley as the clouds swirled around the mountains. Soon the going got boggy and I got stroppy. During one of my disturbed outbursts of joy I startled two white-tailed brocket deer who darted off into the fog. Yes I got photos, albiem vague and distant. Also disturbed was a rail-like bird with a long beak that sped off with a squawk similar to the ones we always used to see in the wetlands, Erin Farmer. I eventually struggled out of the swamp and slowly ascended to the ridgeline. Upon reaching it I discovered the I hadn`t really gone far as the buzzard flies, I`d just come around the back of Collantes Plain. As I looked down I saw anew picturesque patterns in the heavily grazed grass and multi-coloured ants setting camp between the streams. I then continued ascending the ridge to the top with amazing views to the west of the populated River Blanco valley and to the east of the shrouded Altar. The ensuing descent probably only took a half hour but it was down insanely steep tussock-covered inclines, switching back and forth and testing my ankles and knees no end.
DAY 1: Having met the owner of Hacienda Releche, Otovalo, who had just spent a year in Melbourne helping David Hayes train his thoroughbreds. I set out all-smiles, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. It was a tough and exhausting day. Although the track was wide and straightforward it was consistently uphill, and starting at 3200m with a 20kg pack was not too fun or good for my cranky old-man back. On the way I was passed by a group of equines loaded up with several humans and their equipment. Everyone there (except for the mules & The Mule) appeared to be having a rather fine time of it thanks very much, including one guy drinking a beer! The beauty of the mountains and El Altar slowly revealed itself throughout the day, and culminated when I finally reached the Collantes Plain which hosts the headwaters of the River Blanco. A long, steep valley and wide, boulder-strewn plain ending in El Altar`s snow-capped dignitaries. Amazing.
I stopped next to the refugio to admire the valley for a while then set out for the base of the crater where scattered cloud forest provided shelter for camping. This took longer than I thought. It was very boggy and uphill. When I finally arrived I was in an altered state - time passed very slowly and everything was quite trippy and heavy. Another group including 3 older French climbers I`d met on the way up were going up to the crater that afternoon but I physically was not able to. I ate and eventually went to sleep, horrible as it was. Sleeping on a slope at about 4000m , not recommended.
DAY 2: The next morning I discovered I had many cheeky birds including hummingbirds as neighbours. The patches of cloud forest around were beautiful, very reminiscent of cool temperate rainforests in Australia. The birds and I were soon joined by a Park ranger who took my money and described the journey to the south for me. Then I set out next to a dramatic waterfall for the crater rim, another few hundred metres up. After the again exhaustive uphill I was more than rewarded. A gigantic turquoise lake at the bottom of the colossal crater, its in places 1000m high walls a mesmerising blend of grey-black stone, light green paramo (upland grassland and swamp) and snow. The lake is constantly being fed by glacier melt. I kept my quasi-promise to myself to try to swim whereever possible - however the water wasn`t too warm so it was more like a quick bush shower but who`s counting¿ I also discovered the bush with the purple lilly-pilly type fruit I had so enjoyed in lower Patagonia - what? Such an enormous range - it seemed only to be growing above 4000m there though as I hadn`t seen it before.
Then I saw one of the only 40 condors left in Ecuador sunning itself on the rock directly next to the waterfall. They`re pretty big!! He eventually flew off as I paparazzied closer. The cloudy morning made the views of the mountains not as clear as I would have liked but hopefully you all get a good idea! After a massive breakfast I set out to do a day hike from my guidebook map, one that leads to campsites to climb the northern spires of El Altar. I exited the valley, crossed the referenced creek and saw what I thought was my track switchbacking up a hill to the east. It was bound to cross my creek, I vaguely guessed but believed anyway. So I rockhopped up the beautiful stream, marvellng at the gorgeous vegetation and cascades. Soon I decided it was time to exit to find my trail. I had come to a very steep hill to climb. Oh well, grab onto the grass and head straight up. It was very tough even packless. After what seemed like well long enough I still hadn`t crossed the path so I sat down and had some lunch. Upon inspection `the path`was just a cow track that seemed to finish before it got to me.
So I made my own cross-country trek through the paramo into the valley as the clouds swirled around the mountains. Soon the going got boggy and I got stroppy. During one of my disturbed outbursts of joy I startled two white-tailed brocket deer who darted off into the fog. Yes I got photos, albiem vague and distant. Also disturbed was a rail-like bird with a long beak that sped off with a squawk similar to the ones we always used to see in the wetlands, Erin Farmer. I eventually struggled out of the swamp and slowly ascended to the ridgeline. Upon reaching it I discovered the I hadn`t really gone far as the buzzard flies, I`d just come around the back of Collantes Plain. As I looked down I saw anew picturesque patterns in the heavily grazed grass and multi-coloured ants setting camp between the streams. I then continued ascending the ridge to the top with amazing views to the west of the populated River Blanco valley and to the east of the shrouded Altar. The ensuing descent probably only took a half hour but it was down insanely steep tussock-covered inclines, switching back and forth and testing my ankles and knees no end.
When I returned to the valley I asked one of the Frenchies (who hadn`t succeeded in mounting Obispo, the highest at 5404m due to rain) about the trail to Camp Italiano. I also met Mark Bueno, an Australian/Ecuadorian who`s been living in Ecuador most of his life. Usually its the other way around. He and his many friends from Quito invited me to dinner for which I dutifully prepared my stock standard pasta with tomato paste veges. Their dinner was a range of packet snacks and noodle soup, but their gigiantic pot of water never actually boiled due to altitude and no lid. I could have told them that. We chatted amicably, my Spanish being rather lame at the end of the day as usual. All 8 of them seemed well-kitted for trekking and had well-paying jobs, also degrees of English ranging from great to less than great as far as I could tell. I returned the half-hour trudge to my tent across the swamp, creeks and boulders and went to bed.
DAY 3: And so to Camp Italiano. With 2kgs or so less food my pack was heavenly in comparison to Day 1. After crossing Collantes again the first part of my trek was a long sharp incline. With a 17kg pack I sure was glad it was the start of the day when I have energy to burn. I took many breath-breaks, pushing myself to eventually reach a path which followed a ridge around a mountain. This passed slightly above the swamp-line snaking up to a high pass. There I lunched. The path seemed to go quickly downhill, and remembering the vague directions given by Frenchie I set off cross-country holding my elevation line, trying to find either his Blue Lake, Camp Italiano or at least a pass through the intimidating craggery of the ridge in front of me. This was a simple and relaxing walk, kind of like a stroll down Merri Creek on a Sunday afternoon.
... .... ...
Naahht. Struggle town as usual through the paramo and steep valleys running across my path. I finally came to a relatively flat area under the much higher ridge. I examined my options. No Blue Lake, no easy pass through and not even a whiff of Camp Italiano. So I decided to pitch my tent in the best possible spot. As I did so the freezing cold rain got heavier. I was intent to be in tent before it got too intense. I was also inclined to not be too inclined either. Neither really came to pass. And so I was, remembering the words of some Brazilian dude the other day talking about dealing with altitude affectation, saying the best thing to do if possible is to sleep.
After my nap I set off up the steepness to the high ridge, much easier without the pack but still a thick and unpredictable scramble. When I reached the ridge I had fantastic views of the surrounding countryside. I continued up cow tracks past amazing rock sculptures from peak to peak. I was walking into heavy cloud. Hiking at such great heights was invigorating and magical. I reached a peak where someone had planted their walking stick and soon after sheer cliffs and an eerily quiet calm in the fog. It was brilliant. On that day I saw the entire range of paramo vegetation - the lower grasslands having such a spectacuar range of organisms and habits like the dominant poa-ish tussocks, danthonia-like grasses, lillies, spongy mosses, spiky bromeliads and the larger florescences of the puyas (Andean Spectacled Bear food), razor-sharp Pampas grass, lichen, many types of fungii, spiky pin-cushion-like plants and a large variety of wildflowers and Asteracae. As I had climbed higher I`d noticed less vegation but also different plants growing like a bizarre light-green cactus and an ice-plant. At the top of my climb there was very little vegetation at all. Because of the heavy cloud a relatively easy descent became at times confused but I found my camp eventually to settle down for the eating and the rugging up - a bit chilly at about 4300m.
DAY 4: My alarm woke me just as the dreaming was cozy after about 3hrs sleep. Sleeping and altitude don`t really play well together at the beginning. The exit to Candelaria involved getting to the main path. My pack gave me enough added downhill impetus to push my feet through false dirt masked as moss, hidden bogs, flimsy tussocks and mini-crevasses. What a battle! I eventually swore my way clear of the true paramo to reach the heavily grazed and burnt area - easier to navigate but still very steep. I climbed down to the rushing river, navigated a crossing and then scrambled up past the horses, cows and mules to the main path. Then to a focussed march down to the Releche to try to reach the 1200pm bus back to Riobamba. The heavy overnight rain had converted the black soil track into a mudslide. I slid, tripped and hot-stepped the long journey back to Candelaria to arrive just in time for my midday schedule.
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