El Porvenir

El Porvenir

After months of being closed to the public due to concerns of a possible eruption, Cotopaxi National Park has finally reopened. On a recommendation from some friends, we booked an evening at the Hacienda El Porvenir which is located right on the edge of the park and boats a spectacular view of the Cotopaxi volcano.

We were pleased to discover that this stunning retreat was no more than an hour and half drive out of town and the route provided scenic views of rolling green country side and simple farms.

Cotopaxi Looming

The hacienda is located at over 11,000 feet and the air is cold and the wind is strong. The property is an assortment of charming red clay buildings with straw rooves, wood-burning fireplaces, a horse pasture with about 20 Andean horses, and several sheep, llamas, and dogs on site. El Porvenir is situated in the midst of several cow pastures where paramo grass grows in thick clumps and mortino bushes (wild blueberry bushes) cling to the mountain ridges. And, though at the moment it was obscured by thick rainclouds, snow-capped Cotopaxi loomed just behind the hacienda.

We invited our friends who made the recommendation to join us, along with their two teenage daughters. After settling in to our respective quarters, Justin, Jimmy and I decided to take a quick walk around the property to stretch our legs and take in the view. The hacienda offered three marked foot trails, ranging from a 40 minute to a 2 hour walk. We opted for the two hour hike, which was going to take us away from the property, up the ridge behind the property, towards Cotopaxi, and then back down the ridgeline on the other side of the property – essentially a giant loop.

Cotopaxi Volcano

The first part of the trail led us to the outskirts of the property where most of the horses had retired for the day to graze on the grass and drink from little volcano-fed springs. Then, the trail made a sharp left turn and began ascending through a woody area. Up and up we climbed though the wood. Several times I attempted to taste some of the maroon-skinned wild blueberries growing in prickly bushes alongside the trail but Justin stopped me every time. Some old boy scout rule about not eating wild berries.

After about 45 minutes of walking, we crested the ridgeline and were rewarded with a spectacular view of the valley around us. Mountain ranges and volcanoes to all sides, and a patchwork quilt of green pastures below. The wind was whipping fast as the height and already I was feeling my cheeks begin to chap. I could also feel the rapidly diminishing atmosphere at this height, as I huffed and puffed noisily behind the guys. After a quick breather, we decided to go ahead and complete the trail, which up until now had been remarkably well-marked. The next 40 minutes of the hike were along the ridge, taking us toward Cotopaxi at a steady 15 degree incline.  This may not seem very steep, but when oxygen is so scarce at this elevation, it feels more like a 45 degree incline.

Getting Ready

I let the guys take the lead, and found myself where I do on virtually all mountain hikes – in the caboose, huffing and puffing like the Little Engine That Could. I find I don’t like to talk on these hikes, as my lungs are too busy keeping my alive to waste precious breath on conversation. And at no time do I find small talk more irritating when I’m oxygen deprived. So at this point in the hike my responses are usually limited to head nods and grunts.

And it was during one of my grunts to Justin when I looked up and saw the rain clouds rolling back from Cotopaxi, beginning to reveal its snow-covered peak to us. We all stopped in our tracks to process the sight in front of us. A massive volcano, its summit – draped in sparkling snow seemed almost to touch the tip of the sky. Making its name, “Neck of the Moon” quite fitting. How lucky we felt to be presented with such a magnificent site, even if only for as long as the clouds allowed.

We then continued our ascent up the ridge. I noticed that the once clearly-marked trail had vanished and could find no indication of which way we should be heading. Our friend Jimmy was confident he could see the trail down the valley and suggested we take a “shortcut.”

And here is where things take a turn.

We leave the path where we had been standing and make a sharp left, no heading down the ridge back to the valley where the hacienda sits. But the valley is nothing but cow pastures and spiky grassy bushes so the walking is difficult. The ground is covered with old cow dung, dried and bleached white from the sun. Prickly bushes, some as tall as my hip provide obstacles to finding any sort of clear foot path. Imagine if you were a flea, walking across the back of a hedgehog. Every other step you have to turn and dodge a quill. You cut left, cut right, hop over a bush, etc. We are also now going downhill somewhat steeply, so there’s the added momentum of your body weight propelling you down the ridge and throwing off your balance.

The sign at the hacienda estimated 2 hours for this hike – roundtrip. We had now been walking for close to that time and in theory would arrive back at El Porvenir in 20-30 minutes. We traversed the back of the hedgehog for nearly half an hour before coming to small gorge. It was here we realized that what our friend thought was the trail was actually a deep gorge between two pastures. And there was no trace of a trail in sight. We knew the general direction we need to head – down and left. But there was no obvious way to get there.

What transpired for the next 90 minutes can only be described as a clumsy downhill stumble that led us through unending cow pastures, down and up gorges, through flooded valleys, under and over barbed wire fences, several backtracks and recalculations back dropped against a plethora of whispered profanity. The sun, meanwhile was slowly but steadily beginning to set and the temperature to drop as we tripped, lurched, and bumbled through pasture after pasture, trying to get back on a track towards the hacienda.

I would like to add here that none of us had dressed properly for this sort of hike, thinking instead we were going on an easy stroll through the country. I was wearing soft leather boots and dress socks, and poor Jimmy was wearing cargo shorts and boat shoes.

Finally, we saw another ridge to our left. On the other side of that ridge, we were fairly sure, sat the hacienda. It was no more than 1,000 meters across yet another cow pasture and we would have the hacienda in our sights. Easy. Except for one small problem. This particular cow pasture. This cow pasture separating us from a blustery, darkening and lonely countryside and a warm hacienda with a fireplace and canelazos and fleece leggings happened to belong to a bull-fighting training farm. We could see the circular training arena down below. And within this cow pasture stood two dozen black, muscular, horned bulls. Bulls who are likely trained to fight and be aggressive with humans. Bulls who had abruptly become quite curious with our sudden appearance on the edge of their grazing field.

After a quick survey, we deemed that the bulls seemed pretty relaxed. In fact, some of them even started walking away from us. They probably won’t mind if we just cut through their little pasture here to get home. So we slowly started walking into the field. At this point, what I assume was the Boss Bull, turned to face us head-on, and took a step forward. You might say it gave the impression of “squaring us up”. Carefully and quickly, the three of us backed up again to the edge of the pasture. Boss Bull was still staring us down pretty intently. Then I had a brilliant idea. “If we join elbows and walk side-by-side-by-side, we’ll give the impression of one really large animal, and then Boss Bull won’t mess with us.” The guys found my logic to be sound. So the three of us hooked arms, me in the middle, and once again we attempted to cross the pasture. Boss Bull was not comfortable with us whatsoever, evidenced by his next quick two steps in our direction and what I can only describe as an “I dare you” stare. So we quickly backed up again out of the pasture.

It occurred to us at this moment that this is where the term bully came from. We were being bullied by a bunch of bulls. In one last ditch effort to get us home, I suggested we all try sprinting as fast as possible straight across the pasture. It was then matter-of-factly explained to me that as the smallest person with the shortest legs, I would undoubtedly be picked off with the quickness by Boss Bull.

And with no other recourse, and lacking the confidence to outrun a herd of fighting bulls, we humbly walked backward out of the pasture, back down into the gorge, and continued our wandering for another hour.

Finally, we reached a dirt road that would lead us back to the hacienda. And while we survived the bull encounter, we were not coming away unscathed. My slippery dress socks had rubbed blisters into my feet and I had scrapes on my hand from crawling under barbed wire. Jimmy had scraped knees from sliding down a tree trunk which he had used at one point to gain a vantage point on our location. And Justin’s sweater was covered in spiny brambles that he had inadvertently raked across his face in attempt to wipe his nose.

Shannon Horsin' Around

It was now dusk. Our two hour leisurely walk through the countryside turned out to be more like a four hour episode of Naked and Afraid: Andes Cow Pastures (minus the naked part). And we were only two glad to huddle up around the blazing wood fire in the hacienda’s sitting room, and warm ourselves with hot canelazos and bourbon as we regaled the girls with our harrowing tale of survival.

The next day at Porvenir was much more tranquil. After a simple scrambled egg, bread and marmalade breakfast, Justin and I went for a 2 hour (it was actually 2 hours this time) horseback riding tour back up into the ridgeline. We were outfitted with heavy alpaca fur-lined chaps, and thick wool poncho that did a remarkable job of blocking out the chilling winds.

Quietly we rode back up to the ridge with a splendid view once again of Cotopaxi. And I couldn’t help but marvel at how blessed our lives truly are. If you had told me two years ago that I would be riding horses through the Andes Mountains with Justin, surrounded by some of the most striking scenery I have ever seen, I would have laughed. But I did. And this is my life at the moment. And I’m absolutely loving it.