Compañeros: El Camino Verdadero: August 2013

After a night spent in Quito, Claire and I headed south-east to the city of Macas. Snow-capped volcanoes and high mountain valleys slowly gave way to rushing rivers and lush green forests. We shed layers as the humidity and heat increased. From Macas, we caught a bus further south to the small town of Logroño. Here we were welcomed by Jimson, who works in tourism for the municipal government in Logroño. Jimson let us know that we would soon be living and working with Renee, a farmer in the area. In the meantime, we would stay with Jimson’s mother, Rosa, since there was no room at Renee’s house due to the unannounced arrival of two other WOOFers from Ireland earlier that same day.

Our Irish friends and a very strong horse.

In fact, Rosa has two houses, and we were set up in her mother’s house. Abuelita (grandmother), as we affectionately call her, has been kind enough to let us camp in her kitchen, and we have gotten along so well that we have stayed here for the past 5 weeks. Abuelita is 97, she can’t see, and she can hardly hear anything. Of course, that combined with our sub-par Spanish has made for some very interesting interactions. Claire is lovely and patient with Abuelita, and for that reason she has heard many stories (some of which have been coherent), about the history of the house and family here in Logroño. According to Abuelita, she herself is 150 years old, and hasn’t had a visitor in years. Of course, Ecuador being such a family-oriented culture, her children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren come by daily. Furthermore, Rosa, the lovely woman who has been kindly feeding and guiding us, cares for Abuelita on a daily basis (meals, baths, medicines, etc.) Of the most interesting interactions I’ve had with Abuelita, one encounter found her in quite a fiery mood. Sometimes she forgets who we are, and wonders why we are staying in her house. In such a moment of relapse, as I was doing yoga in her kitchen, we had the following conversation (keeping in mind I have to scream to be heard here):

97 and still truckin'! Check out the shoes :)

Abuela: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Exercising”

Abuela: “You’re a liar!”

Me: “Abuelita, what’s wrong? Sit here, let’s chat.”

Abuela: “What is your name?”

Me: “You don’t remember me Abuela? I’ve been her for 2 weeks, living in your kitchen. My name is Justin.”

Abuela: “What?”

Me: “JUSTIN”

Abuela: “What?”

Me (trying a Spanish word): JUSTO

Abuela: “Gustov! Gustov! What kind of name is Gustov!? That’s the name of an animal! You need a Christian name! Get out of my house!”

Obviously, this left me a bit unsure of how to continue. But, as usual, her mood quickly recovered into the positive and soon we were laughing, having quite literally forgotten all about the past incident.

Abuela has been kind enough to liven our stay here, but Rosa has been the Queen. Rosa is 60 years old and can out-work us with style and grace. Throughout all of our WWOOFing experiences here in South America, one thing that we had missed before Logroño was a “boss” or farm owner who worked as hard as they wanted everyone else to work. Rosa has done that and more. She makes it clear in conversation that life and work in the campo (country) is her passion and her art. She reassures us that she doesn’t mind sleeping only a few hours every night, because she loves what she does. And she truly does love her work on her farm and in her fields, you can see it with the smile she has on her face when she wakes up to work, and with the smile she still has on her face when we have come back from an 8 hour day in the humid and sun-filled field, and she is still happily preparing us dinner. She feeds us, works with us, and teaches us with infinite patience about farming techniques including the harvest of Cassava, Maize, sugar cane, and a root vegetable called Papa China. We have also helped her plant naranjilla trees, plant yucca, feed the guinea pigs and pigs which she raises for food, and clean up around the farm. We have been invigorated and inspired by this driven, strong, and beautiful female role-model.

On our last night we pretended it was Rosa's birthday to say thank you. Avocado chocolate cake!

Living here has been incredibly interesting, in part because while sharing in rural Ecuadorian culture with this woman and her 97-year-old mother, we also have access to electricity, running water, and (thanks to Jimson) wireless internet.

Jimson’s part of this story is also fascinating. Jimson recently married an American from upstate New York (small world, right?) named Jessica. Jessica worked near Logroño as a Volunteer with the US Peace Corps. During this time, she worked on tourism projects in and around Macas, and also found time to fall in love with Jimson. Now, the two are married and working together to initiate tourism in Logroño (which also happens to be Jimson’s job for the municipality). The challenge for the two of them, and another lovely American named Michaela who is here on an internship from the States, is to find the most potent tourism opportunities here in Logroño. To our great fortune, Claire and I (and the other two Woofers, Irishmen named Lorcan and Darragh) have been asked to participate in these tourist activities, that we may provide our feedback.

Jimson, Jessica, and J junior on the way!

The second day after arriving, we were swept off to the jungle in a pick-up truck.

After an hour’s drive, we were escorted by a guide from the local Shuar culture through several deforested grasslands to primary forest. After slipping and sliding up the steep, muddy slopes of the pasture, we found peace and serenity in the forest, surrounded by the sounds of the birds and the pristine brook that babbled its way along the path. Following the stream, we arrived at a beautiful waterfall, and nearly chanced a viewing of some monkeys who shook the treetops as they passed by us.

Another adventure lead us to a pristine waterfall cascading 90 feet into an enchanted pool below, where we were able to swim. We also climbed behind the falls and felt the power of the water crashing upon the rocks at our feet. This waterfall is on the property of another Shuar local, who stays with his family at a small hut in the front of the property, where they farm and care for the paths. They welcomed us warmly, and the host happily shared his knowledge of farming and the history of his wonderful place.

We also spent a full day journeying with Don Renee (the farmer whom we work for on days when we are not helping Rosa) to help vaccinate his cows, which he keeps far up in the mountains. Several hours on horseback through steep grasslands led us to appreciate the primary forests which eventually gave us shade and relieved us from the relentless sun that batters the deforested areas of land.

The most adventurous journey we took was to the caves, located across the river from Logroño. There, with Don Renee as our guide, we journeyed through thick jungle to the mouth of the caves. With headlights, we made our way slowly through the underground caverns, which supposedly were used ancestrally as paths through the mountain above. After less than 2 minutes walking, Claire made me aware of something of interest, perched on a rock and level with my head. I turned to see a Boa staring me in the face from its curled position. It was relatively small (about 4 or 5 feet, and the width of the handle of a tennis racket), and beautifully colored. Taking its tranquility as a sign of the respect we should have for the potential danger ahead, we continued. As we reached deeper into the cave, bats buzzed by our heads, and we found crabs, spiders, and some unidentifiable bugs, all shying away from the bright lamps we used to light our way. We followed an underground creek up the caves to where it reaches a waterfall, which begins in the forest above and plunges into the cavern below.

The creek was full of water, as it had recently rained, and our guide decided that after a few minutes of ascent through waist-deep water, he should recount a story of 4 tourists who had been swept to their deaths in the creek a few years earlier. It had rained heavily higher in the mountain, and they had been caught in a flash flood within the cavern.

The creek became steeper as we ascended, and we began scaling small waterfalls and rapids in order to continue. At one point, a worker of Don Renee’s who had come along for the fun was caught by the current and pinned against a rock. He was okay, but a bit shaken, afterwards joking: “If we are gonna kill all these gringos, we are far enough, just do it already Renee, we don’t have to keep going”…

But we kept on, the momentum and determination of the group growing at each turn. Finally we reached a powerful waterfall about 10 feet in height. Renee, who is 48, scaled it with ease. I followed, with considerably less ease. Basically the ascent involved grabbing a rope that had been secured to the rock, and pulling oneself up by the arms, as there were few footholds. This was made more difficult by the height of the creek, which meant that a normally dry climb was now complimented by water cascading into our faces as we attempted to pull ourselves up. We decided to continue, as we were ‘close’ according to Renee (whatever that meant), so I climbed back down to help boost the others up. Lorcan and Darragh made their way up the rock with a boost from below and a helping hand from above, flopping about like beached seals to make it through the force of the water. Next came Michaela. She got a good grip on the rope, and I tried to boost her from below. Renee had her hand from above, but the water bearing down on her face was too strong, and she lost her grip. In desperation she held momentarily with her other hand, allowing her body to swing into the full force of the water. Then she disappeared into the froth.

I had assumed that the water in the pool beneath the waterfall was only about 5 feet deep. But no part of Michaela was visible in the torrent, and she was not in the space behind the falls either. We plunged in after to search for her, and pulled her, gasping and with the fear of death in her eyes, out of the pool. She collapsed on a rock to catch her breath, taking in what had just happened. She later explained that she could not escape the force of the water from the falls crashing onto her head, and she was convinced she could not get out – that she would die there in the pool at the depth of that dark cave.

While the whole event had lasted only about 20 seconds, she was understandably shaken. She did quite well to keep her spirits up, and she waited for us to make a decision on what to do. By this time, none of us was prepared to ask her to try again, and although no one said it, we had noticed the creek rising and the force of the falls increasing.

After about 45 minutes of descent through water that was now clearly higher than when we had entered, we reached the place where the original path met the stream. Here, we turned off our lights, and had an eerie moment of silence in the absolute darkness of the cave. The energy of the place was strong and (obviously) dark, and we were all glad to be safe and out of the water. Emerging soon from the cave, we were amazed at how bright and vivid the greens of the jungle appeared. In the vortex of the cave, it was hard to say if it had been 3 minutes, 3 hours, or 3 days that we had wandered below the earth.