With the exception of the famous train ride from Riobamba to Alausi, when going from city to city thirteen years ago, we traveled by airplane. This time, with four children in tow, the only economical thing to do was travel by bus. Having traveled by bus, I get it. I get Ecuador now, and I am blown away.
The Andes aren't like sprinkles on a cupcake, scattered here and there around the country, providing an occasional vista and challenge to transportation, then flattening out again for your driving pleasure. The Andes are the big dogs, and they wait for no one. They don't move out of the way, from the northern most province clear down to the bottom of the country. (They really don't stop until the bottom of the continent but that's another adventure altogether.) You think you've seen mountains...the Sierra Nevadas, even the Rocky Mountains. You aint seen nothing until you've seen the Andes.
Traveling the roads, wherever we went, we experienced the Andes. At the beginning of our trip, just to get from the port city Guayaquil, to Cuenca, we climbed up into the Andes and crossed the continental divide. To go down to Loja and Vilcabamba we alternated between being wedged into impossible chasms the tops of we could not see, to the snaking and and teetering along tops of said chasms, for five hours straight. Up to Riobamba, we curled and climbed to heights and views that my brain could not register, they were so vast. Even just a one-hour trip to Yunguilla Valley outside of Cuenca was merciless. I was forced to let go of my life and trust. These bus drivers do this every day without consequence, I must trust, I would reason. So much of the time, it was me the control freak, with no means of control. (I think I'll sleep for days upon returning to the states, from this aspect alone.)
The road is not a permanent unchanging thing in Ecuador. Nature here wields great force. Fallen rocks, water damage, potholes, and mudslides are routine. Perhaps there are things the Ecuadorians could do to prevent these things; but I'm guessing the cost is prohibitive, because there is just so much they'd have to reinforce. The drivers just compensate for it, are ready for it, and incredibly skilled.
I recently picked up a book called Railroad in the Sky by E.H. Brainard and K.R. Brainard, an account of the construction of the Guayaquil & Quito Railroad at the turn of the century. This project was considered impossible, having met failure many times before, for the reasons that I discovered on my own, experiencing the terrain by bus.
Although the project was completed in 1908, championed by Ecuadorian president Eloy Alfaro and two American brothers, Archer and John Harman, it was an extremely difficult task, physically, economically, and politically. I suppose it made a difference at the time, expediting transit of goods from highlands to coast, uniting Guayaquil and Quito. But political differences were deep-seated, and turmoil continued. Earthquakes, landslides, and El Nino have destroyed large portions of track over time, and there are only sections left of it. The Andes remain.
-Trudenski
The Andes aren't like sprinkles on a cupcake, scattered here and there around the country, providing an occasional vista and challenge to transportation, then flattening out again for your driving pleasure. The Andes are the big dogs, and they wait for no one. They don't move out of the way, from the northern most province clear down to the bottom of the country. (They really don't stop until the bottom of the continent but that's another adventure altogether.) You think you've seen mountains...the Sierra Nevadas, even the Rocky Mountains. You aint seen nothing until you've seen the Andes.
Traveling the roads, wherever we went, we experienced the Andes. At the beginning of our trip, just to get from the port city Guayaquil, to Cuenca, we climbed up into the Andes and crossed the continental divide. To go down to Loja and Vilcabamba we alternated between being wedged into impossible chasms the tops of we could not see, to the snaking and and teetering along tops of said chasms, for five hours straight. Up to Riobamba, we curled and climbed to heights and views that my brain could not register, they were so vast. Even just a one-hour trip to Yunguilla Valley outside of Cuenca was merciless. I was forced to let go of my life and trust. These bus drivers do this every day without consequence, I must trust, I would reason. So much of the time, it was me the control freak, with no means of control. (I think I'll sleep for days upon returning to the states, from this aspect alone.)
The road is not a permanent unchanging thing in Ecuador. Nature here wields great force. Fallen rocks, water damage, potholes, and mudslides are routine. Perhaps there are things the Ecuadorians could do to prevent these things; but I'm guessing the cost is prohibitive, because there is just so much they'd have to reinforce. The drivers just compensate for it, are ready for it, and incredibly skilled.
I recently picked up a book called Railroad in the Sky by E.H. Brainard and K.R. Brainard, an account of the construction of the Guayaquil & Quito Railroad at the turn of the century. This project was considered impossible, having met failure many times before, for the reasons that I discovered on my own, experiencing the terrain by bus.
Although the project was completed in 1908, championed by Ecuadorian president Eloy Alfaro and two American brothers, Archer and John Harman, it was an extremely difficult task, physically, economically, and politically. I suppose it made a difference at the time, expediting transit of goods from highlands to coast, uniting Guayaquil and Quito. But political differences were deep-seated, and turmoil continued. Earthquakes, landslides, and El Nino have destroyed large portions of track over time, and there are only sections left of it. The Andes remain.
-Trudenski
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