Riobamba & Chimborazo

On the bank holidays, I travel a good 2,700 metres in altitude and ten hours by bus from the Pacific to the Andes via Ecuador’s second largest city. When changing planes at the Guayaquil terminal, I fly through tens of thousands of Ecuadorians queuing endlessly in front of the counters.

Whole armies of flying vendors storm the bus at 20 km/h past the “Prohibido Vendedores / Comida” sign. The clouds hang low over the steep slopes of the western Andes. Then we break through the top layer and the sun shines over endless high mountain valleys and volcanoes. I have an appointment here with an extremely versatile designer from Quito.

Early on the first morning, we take the bus for a good hour to the highest volcano in Ecuador, the 6,268 metre-high Chimborazo. Its mighty glacier cap, otherwise often obscured by clouds, is shining brightly today. The public bus drops us off at the Chimborazo Lodge at 4000 metres. A truck takes us half an hour past wild pecunhas to the first hut at 4,800 metres. A wolf is foraging for food in the car park in front of it.

We are among the first and immediately set off on the modest 250 metre ascent up to the second hut. We need almost two hours for the technically easy path. Steps have never been so small. Even the designer from Quito – used to living at an altitude of 2,800 metres – is really turning it up. I give her the honourable title of “Quiteña Lama”. Apparently I am now immune to altitude sickness. Not even my 5,000 metres of altitude within 30 hours provokes her to attack. At the top, the nearby glacier shines under drifting wisps of cloud over our coca teas at 5,042 metres. The highest point of two lifetimes. Pure happiness.

We flee from the Ecuadorians who are now flocking to the volcano on public holidays. The difference in equipment couldn’t be funnier for a Bavarian. A typical German mountain maiden buys ice-proof high mountain boots for 500 euros for the third ascent of the neighbouring hundred-metre hill. In Ecuador, people climb to over 5,000 metres wearing flip-flops and fancy dress costumes. Those with the flip-flops arrive at the top, many with good boots are stuck to the side of the road panting as we descend, one of them later throws up from the car. A jeep takes us back down through clouds of dust on the loading area.

Riobamba lies at 2,750 metres between snow-covered Andean peaks and is the starting point for luxury journeys in old steam trains costing up to $5,000. The homepage of “Tren Ecuador” is super-stylish, but its web designer is a complete idiot: bookings are impossible. The crowning glory of my three days of futile booking attempts is the arrogant stationmaster of Riobamba. This splendid specimen of a flat-track wanker obviously thrives at this altitude.

Instead, we successfully amuse ourselves with the search for a pair of nail scissors. Ecuadorians love clippers. I love scissors. Two disposable scissors and ten taxis later, we know the entire city. A hundred dogs bark me to sleep.