Yesterday was the expedition to the summit of the mountain looming over Tumbaco, the next town over from Cumbaya. A group of us met at the bus stop, then began the trek through neighborhoods to reach the base of the mountain. A poor suburb of Tumbaco runs up the slope of the mountain, going up two ridgelines and split by a valley. The lower part of is made up of cobble stone streets and cinder block houses, with a few small stores and houses, and accompanied by a soccer field. Driving through the town was phantom presence: a pick-up loaded with scrap metal and with a loud speaker mounted on top, alternating between preaching the bible and trying to buy scrap metal. No matter where we were in town, it seemed like we could hear the truck as an eternal part of the landscape.
Unsure whether to take the left or right slope, we settled on the left. Our only direction was to go up, so we took side streets, alleys, anything that looked like it would head towards the summit. For a while we hiked up dirt steps, going past small houses and fields, with ever-present dogs barking at us as we neared their homes. The views were incredible, but the ground itself was littered with trash in town. After a series of stairs and roads, we found ourselves at the edge of a field, unsure of where to go. At this point, our group split ways- 4 trekked through the field towards maiz, while the rest of us turned up an road-bed that meanded left, and slightly uphill. The "slightly" part proved to be very short-lived. Soon, we were gasping for breath as we sludged up the stone-paved road's steep grade & switchbacks before it finally turned to a dirt road and we saw the tire tracks of the rare 4-wheel drive vehicles that had braved the upper reaches of the mountain. This was not a good omen of things to come. Every time we rounded a bend, we though the summit would be almost upon us, but every time it was only slightly less distant. As we finally neared the top, we rounded another summit, only to find a group less mobile than us- a family trying to work a green Izuzu trooper out of the muddy ditch beside the road. It's back tire was lodged in mud and the fender was jammed against the four feet of cutout that marked the side of the road. For a while we paused to try and help the family- lodging rocks under tires and pushing from behind, but alas us environmental majors can only do some much in a world of engineering and physics. We helped them to call for help before making the final push to the summit.
At the top of mountain was a white cross- fully 20 feet and made of concrete...and definitely not a zip-line. At some point while talking to the locals for directions (apparently I have trouble figuring out how to go up a hill), one of our party though a local was describing a little zip-line at the summit of the mountain. Later it was obvious that the guy was stretching is arms out like Jesus on the cross, but to be fair, at the time he definitely make a WOOSH sound and made soaring motions. Yay for limited language skills!
Today my host-brother took Hannah & I biking with several of his friends. I can safely say it was the muddiest I have been in a long time. The old road bed was covered in mud, and cut through the lower reaches of the paramo- a lot of the time we had to carry the bikes uphill, and when we were pedaling the tires would often spin with no forward motion- the treads vanishing under a dense coat of black, tarry mud. The constant mist ensured that the ride down was treacherous and exhilarating- brakes had minial impact as we skidded downhill, back to the truck!
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