Along with a father-daughter duo from
Chicago, I travel (Kathryn is
sick in our hotel) to Cotopaxi with Fernando, a bilingual guide
from Safari Ecuador, who gives fair warning about the road
conditions in the park. It is soon clear that the $10 entry fee the
government collects from each person does not get funneled toward
road repair. But even hard-core potholes can't detract from the
park's sparse beauty (well, until the series of three that takes
out our rear right tire). Tiny purple flowers called
chocho
grow close to the ground, hiding from the wind. Packs of wild
horses, descended from animals that broke away from a hacienda long
ago, graze on the grass, their manes grown long.
As our SUV, its odometer at 512,000 miles, climbs above the tree
level, the flowers and horses disappear. A stripe of 100-year-old
lava serves as a reminder that this frigid place could glow hot at
absolutely any moment.
At about 14,700 feet, we park in the last spot for cars to stop.
The wind is fierce, and I have to push the
car door open with my
legs. I take just a few steps and breathing becomes a chore.
"What can we see from up there that we can't see down here?" asks
the Chicago dad (who instantly becomes my new hero).
"It's just the goal," Fernando replies.
But with a quick three-way glance among the dad, daughter, and me,
it is decided: The goal has changed. Two Chicagoans and a New
Yorker know winter well enough, so an hour's climb up the volcano -
with tiny blades of ice cutting into our faces - is suddenly off
the itinerary.
Back home, it takes me two days to recover from my weeklong
adventure. Next time, I think I'll spread four seasons (and the
adventures that go with them) out over 365 days.
Where to Stay