Travels in Colombia No.3: The Cocora Valley

December 30th, 2015

What is it that makes an experience unique?

Yesterday we discussed this on our walk to our campsite (beyond the 'Al Rio' sign we found at the end of this post). We had believed Salento to be a picturesque little town curled sleepily among the sunlit coffee bushes, waiting to be discovered. Instead, we had been confronted with cheerful vendors and loud-mouthed touts, curious tourists and cheeky kids. We were both disappointed by the town, although to different extents: I felt it weigh on Nathen's shoulders as he described a friend's truly unique experience, a New Year's kayak in a frozen glacial lake.

Today we woke up at half-past six. It was pleasantly disconcerting when I opened my tent curtain to see a sliver of fresh woodland, instead of a pre-wrapped, banal slice of city. We packed our gear, and crept up the footpath to rejoin the road with the 'Al Rio' sign that had enticed us to the camping spot last night. Now we walked not back into Salento but onwards, towards the north-west. In front of us was the Nevado del Ruiz National Park and the Cocora Valley, filled with wax palms and waiting for us to explore it.

Palms standing to attention on a windy ridge. Some of these are 60 metres high!

How delicious the first hour of hiking was! Even though our route (following a Colombian A-road) wasn't adventurous in itself, the coolness and stillness of the morning and the occasional glimpse of the cloud-wrapped future present painted a fresh coat of optimism on my morning. I was further encouraged by the incredulous stares of motorists, who would whip their heads round as they passed on bikes, or whoop words of greeting while clinging onto the back of an open 4x4. One wag shouted, 'you are so much more hardcore than us!' It was true: I had 12kg on my back and 9km to walk up a long and winding road that was increasingly hot from the sun and unblemished by spots of tree-shade - you bet it was hard. The unrelenting easy beauty of any photo I took seemed to add salt to my sweat, blood and tears. So it was a relief when, on the last 800 metres of road before the park entrance, a gentleman in a pick-up stopped to offer us a lift.

Whizzing along in the back of a ride we'd hitched.

The National Park turned out to have many unnatural amenities. We lingered over tiny cups of coffee, our first in the Eje Cafetero, and then started to hike through the valley. I was impressed by the size and height of the wax palms, which, when juxtaposed with the ambling tourists and the coffee stands gave an otherworldliness, a Liliputian air of everyday life in miniature. There among the monstrous trees was a tiny fairground: horseback rides, endless stalls of goodies, overpriced cocktails. This natural wander-land was rather unnatural. I wondered, was the rest of Colombia still untouched? 

We continued. The pack was painful on my shoulders, and I was thirsty, but still we walked deeper into the park. Eventually we arrived at La Cascada (The Waterfall). It had no waterfall, but we did find a route which wound down a narrow track to the most exquisite camp site. Dotted with red and purple jewel-flowers, littered with shadows and sun, graced with red-breasted woodpeckers and creaking insects. It was paradise, and just a pity that we had arrived too soon: at one o'clock, now was too early to pitch camp. However, we had no food, and the next hacienda, La Primavera, was 19km ahead, so we returned reluctantly to the valley filled with tourists. Still, we had tried; and found a secret spot that no-one else knew. A unique experience, of sorts.

Sunlight through the wild vegetation.

Even though today was just a walk in the park, it left an impression on me that will take a while to shake off. The juxtaposition of familiar and strange felt 'one-of-a-kind' - although I accept that many people wouldn't agree. So then, I suppose, the answer to my question: what is it that makes an experience unique? Why, it's you.

Sunrise over the hills holding the Cocora Valley.

Mexico No.2: The First Two Weeks

February 11th to February 25th, 2016

I love volcanoes. The power, the raw energy, the scale: the reason I came to the Americas. However, the only Reasoning with Volcanoes I did during the first weeks of 2016 was waving to the distant, snow-covered Nevado del Ruiz from the streets of Manizales.

I'm happy to say that I have now returned to my passion. Since February 10th, I have been living in Colima, Mexico, where I am working as a volunteer at Colima Exchange and Research in Volcanology (CIIV). It's a volunteer position like no other: singularly hands-on and do-it-yourself. CIIV functions simultaneously as a monitoring institute and publication mill and centre for academic research, and since 2004 has been run by Dr. Nick Varley with the aid of students that come from all corners of the planet wishing to get their hands dirty working on one of the currently most active volcanoes in the world. I'm very proud to be a small part of the huge team of volunteers who have worked here; as you can see, we are quite a crowd! (Here).

Location of Volcan de Colima, Colima: find it on Google Maps here. 

My first two weeks here (11 - 25th February) were as unconventional as I could hope for! I spent four days in the field, which included sleeping in sub-zero at 3000 metres, carrying camera equipment up a cinder cone, and familiarising myself with software. Work while back home in Colima was interesting, too: my days were split between getting to grips with software and office equipment, and preparing for Skype interviews. You know it's going to be a great placement when your first two weeks rival your recent travels in terms of adventure.

Here is a summary of the highlights of my first fortnight:

February 10: The bus from Ciudad de México reaches Colima at seven o'clock. After experiencing the cold winds and grey skies of a wintry capital, I am overwhelmed by the colours and the warmth of Colima. My flatmates aren't awake yet, so I doze over a coffee in the bus terminal until they are up, and then catch a taxi to my new address. Once inside, I say hello to everybody, find my new room, and promise myself an hour's kip. Wake up at four.

February 11: My first day in the office! CIIV is located in the Facultad de Ciencias (Faculty of Sciences) that belongs to the University of Colima. I spend my first few hours looking through the welcome pack, which instructs new volunteers. I marvel that every task that could possibly be conceived of is apparently already being taken care of by my co-workers; this illusion is dispelled by about my third day. My friends and I work hard, but there is simply more data that can be processed in the time that we have available, especially with the demands of regular fieldwork. As I step out at lunch, the heat of the city rises from the pavement to meet me. It's a blessing after the air-conditioning of the office. What's the saying? If you can't stand the heat, get out of the laboratory.

February 12: It's my second day at CIIV, and already I am in the field. We are monitoring the volcano from the shadow of a barn house in La Joya, a hacienda 8km south of the summit. We have a variety of monitoring equipment that we use to capture data from the volcano: FlySpec, which measures output of sulphur dioxide from degassing at the summit crater; a thermal camera, which captures the temperature of crater-rim fumaroles and explosions; a video camera, for visual evidence of eruptions; and a Nikon camera which we use to photograph eruptions.

Standard set-up of monitoring equipment at La Joya. On the trio of tripods are: video camera (left),
FlySpec (centre), VarioCam thermal camera (right). Laptop and battery are just about visible
in the shade.

The volcano really is quite incredible. Volcán de Colima, or Volcán de Fuego, stands proudly at a height of 3839m on the border between the states of Jalisco and Colima. The caldera in which the cone sits contains massive debris avalanche deposits and flows from prehistoric eruptions, while the central cone is composed of andesitic lava flows. Inside the summit crater a transient dome can sometimes be found; during periods of greater activity, such as July of last year, the dome is cannibalised by the forces rising inside the edifice, and enormous eruptions jet large volumes of ash and gas into the air (as an eruption column), or force them as flows down the volcano's flanks (as pyroclastic flows). 

In contrast to the lively and energetic venting of Fuego, the older edifice of Nevado del Colima is inactive. Nevado sits 5km north of Fuego. At 4271m, Nevado can often be seen over its younger brother's shoulder, quietly sulking, whether rugged and sunburned or dusted in snow.*

Back to the morning of the 12th. We arrive at our monitoring spot (La Joya) at ten o'clock and the volcano is already smoking - a terrible habit. It sporadically stops degassing until three o'clock, when a pale grey plume appears in the crater. It rapidly expands in size, ballooning upwards until the plume resembles a mushroom cloud. After only two short minutes, the emissions seem to have decreased and the wind begins to disperse the plume towards the west. Nevertheless, I am elated: this is the first Vulcanian eruption that I have ever seen!

Fuego de Colima from La Joya, with debris avalanche deposits in middle foreground.

February 20: After a week of interviews, I am able to return to the field. A team from the University of South Florida (USF) are visiting, so I accompany them with Nick to San Antonio, a barranco in the southern part of the caldera. While Nick and I take pH and conductivity measurements of the thermal springs, the USF team walk upstream to attempt to pinpoint the contact between older deposits and the deposits from the July 2015 pyroclastic flows. I am awed by the barranco's size: these canyons are BIG.

Nick in the lower part of the San Antonio barranco.

February 21: The BBC are here! I am extremely excited to meet the team, who are a welcome reminder of home. They are here to film the volcano, of course, and they are lovely, very enthusiastic about this opportunity. We manage to combine our scientific and creative ambitions: a trip up to Volcancito (a series of parasitic lava domes on Fuego's north-east flank) allows us to collect both footage and samples from an ash bucket. The hike is breathtaking: I am carrying 15 kg of camera equipment on my back. I have to regularly regain my energy by 'stopping to smell the roses', which consists of sitting on a rock and admiring the beautiful south face of Nevado. I feel incredible. There's nothing quite like prevailing up a volcano, laden with equipment, to make you feel big - and then standing on the shoulder of said volcano to make you feel small. It's five o'clock in the afternoon, and Fuego begins to stir. At this short distance, the hiss emitted by the degassing plume sounds like a beast lying within the volcano, growling contentedly. And as the sun begins to set, the plume of vapour released begins to grow; slowly at first, curling up and out, and then the rising vapour hits the sunlight's path and glows orange against the sky.

Filming via drone on top of Volcancito, with a gently degassing Fuego at right.

The CIIV team leaves the Beeb to film, and we begin our hike down Volcancito in the dark. We'll be camping tonight in el Playon, the shoulder saddle between the volcano and Nevado. At 3000m altitude, it's chilly, and before sleeping we huddle around a small bonfire for warmth. Looking north towards Nevado, and up at the stars, I can almost forget that there's an active volcano behind us - almost. At half past ten an eruption begins, and a feather of white vapour at the summit sprawls into a blossoming white cloud. Since tonight is clear with a waxing gibbous moon, the effect is spectacular. The white plume rising in the black sky, the stars, the cold: Colima blows my tiny mind.

February 22: el Playon is a convenient stop on the way to the refugio at the top of Nevado. This small building is staffed by the Protección Civil de Jalisco (Civil Protection of Jalisco State), and boasts incredible views of the summit of the volcano, so that we can take excellent FlySpec and thermal data of the northern flanks and crater. The PCJ staff work shifts, and arrive in a truck emblazoned with 'BOMBEROS' ('FIREMEN'), which we find very amusing: are they planning to put out the eruption of Colima with a hose? However, they do a good job, and ironically do an excellent job of building fires, in the large stove in the kitchen. The CIIV collect thermal data overnight, which involves operating the equipment during long shifts in the freezing cold, so a fire is really welcome. Unfortunately I won't be part of the team this time: I have to return to Colima city, and prepare for another interview. I can't wait for my chance to stay at Nevado overnight - ¡tengo que volver!

The refugio at the top of Nevado del Colima, with a view of the cloud-free summit
of Fuego. The refugio stands at about 4000m and is permanently staffed by
PCJ workers.

I do hope to return to Nevado soon. In the meantime, I'll keep my fingers crossed for more unconventionality in the coming weeks!

*Please note! I'm still learning to hit the right tone of this blog, and may vacillate between descriptive prose, informative travel talk, and precise scientific jargon. I understand that sometimes things can get muddled, and that my descriptions of volcanoes can be overly florid: I suggest you take them with a Pichincha of salt.

Travels in Colombia No.2: The Coffee Zone

December 29th, 2015

In the central highlands of Colombia, a crop grows like wildfire. It flourishes on every hill and valley as far as the eye can see: enamelled green leaves with crinkle-cut edges, and glossy, dark red berries hanging like earrings below, spaced out on the vine. Coffee is intimately familiar to me. I associate it with the world of northern Europe and its everyday luxuries: a cardboard Costa on the way to the office, or enamel cups of white nestling a perfect, photo-negative black pool; British tea-time and English elevenses and even the Swedish tradition of fika. Coffee is couched in rules and routine. And yet the provenance of this crop is unrestrained and vibrant and about as different from these straight-laced rituals as you could imagine. 

We are in the Eje Cafetero of central Colombia, where there are giant profusions of orange flowers and fanfares of bamboo, great garlands and tall palms. Coffee grows between them, behind them, under; everywhere. Ordinary people populate this fairytale land in a delightful way; it seems so unlikely that in this magical forest there should be a checkpoint with orange-jacketed ladies, vendors of crisps and fruit, guards balancing guns - but there they are. We zip past them at two hundred miles an hour. Clearly, the driver of our bus has places to be. The speed prevents me from taking more than snapshots of memories, but I do recall seeing a sign for a theme park: Parque del Cafe, it's called. I'm all right for thrills: the drive is ride enough.

We stop for breakfast in Manizales, the capital of Caldas province. Strangely, coffee is not on the menu. In spite of Manizales's loveliness - teetering on a stack of tumble-down hills among the green palms - we are left with a bitter taste in our mouths as Nathen's prized water bottle is stolen. So we decide to flee south to Salento, where the town is smaller and the palms are bigger. We will return at the weekend to bite the Big Apple of Manizales: we have been told that a festival of fruits and flowers is taking place.

Despite our misfortune, I'm already in love with Colombia. Just what is it about this place? I really liked Ecuador, its people, landscapes, history; and yet there's something about its big sister to the north that is just irresistible. Like the people here, the country seems to have the 'it' factor: the wink, the attitude, the flicker of a smile on the lips that draws you in further. My suspicions of Colombia's magic are confirmed that evening, when we pitch camp. We arrived in Salento in the afternoon, and have grown tired of the haggling and hawking at the stalls in the village square. So we leave to begin a lonely pilgrimage north on a small road out of town. We have seen signs for the Cocora Valley and we hope to find solace, if not shelter, under the fronds of a slender wax palm. After a kilometre walking down the silvering road that twists like a live trout, we pass a sign painted in white acrylic that points the way 'Al Rio'. Not ones to pass up an impulse, we follow it towards the river. We pass into a narrow, tranquil valley, empty of wax palms but full of sweet green grass and tall eucalyptus that in the twilight breeze paint the setting sky in shades of pink and lilac. Finally we have found tranquillity. The night is mostly cloudless, and from the comparative dark of our camping spot, hidden under a motherly pine, we watch as capricious fireflies compete with the stately stars to capture our attention.

Mexico No.1: The first night

February 10th, 2016

On my first night in Colima I went for a walk. Even though I was in the northern hemisphere in early February, and it was technically winter, the city had an estival air. 

What is Colima City like? Well, there are old rusty Beetles, and shiny new geckos. Most of the houses are box-shaped, painted by numbers in appealing shades of yellow and red, or in a faded tangerine that is peeling from the walls. The rest of the buildings are white, and quietly support their more flamboyant neighbours. As with every town in Latin America, the streets of Colima are populated by scruffy, shouting black-and-tan mongrels. Everyone smiles in the street. There are hibiscus and palms, tall yellow-flowering trees and some kind of nut (perhaps almond?) on our street. On Avenida de Insurgentes, the main street near our house, there is a park with a magical tree that is crying out to be climbed, secretly, early on a Sunday morning or late one night. The tree's branches network and twist into one another, and the roots lie like folds of sumptuous fabric above the broken pavement. The extravagant lengths to which these trees are allowed to grow is astounding: as I start to make my way back, I spy another tree just off Camino Real which has taken over literally half a street.

I'm just about to arrive home, walking back down my street, when I encounter another kind of nut. Out of the semi-shadows jumps a short man who introduces himself as Israel Angulo Reyes: descended from British royalty, he offers to help with the groceries I am carrying. When I ask my flatmates about him later, it appears I have met the local village kook - on my first night of all nights! However, when I run into him, I am thirsty and tired; my refusal to let him help with my shopping is disgruntled and, if his claims of royal descent are to be believed, possibly treasonous. But I have my doubts; when an imp with stars on his face and lipstick on his chin, a lick of paint on his head and a glint in his eye, tells you he's a king and that you should kiss him ... you should take it with a pinch of salt. When he left me at my door, he shook my hand, and gave me his CV. I have it now on the wall of my bedroom; his claims are quite incredible!

In the subsequent weeks, I see many things that suggest 'anything goes' is the way to go in Mexico. I see dogs living on rooftops; a garage that has been transformed into a fruit shop overnight; a street vendor's churros made to the length of a firehose; and an entire family (3+ generations) in the back of an open pickup, roaring along at 150km/hr on the highway. Still, Israel Angulo Reyes remains the first example of this n'importe quoi, anything goes attitude to life.

The skies above Colima are possibly the best sight of all.

The corner of my street, Rinconada Jacaranda, and its colourful trees.

Pure colour.

Pausing for a laugh with a distant friend.

Greeted by perros gritandos every morning on the way to work.

Travels in Colombia No.1: Street Art in Bogota

December 26th, 2015

It's rare that sayings translate directly from one language to another. The English idioms that we throw about willy-nilly rarely have next-door neighbours in Spanish refranes (caso en punto with 'willy-nilly'). There are, however, the occasional exceptions. 'Better late than never' has the equivalent, 'mas vale tarde que nunca' and it's with this phrase that I'd like to return to blogging. During the past three months I have left home in Ecuador to travel through Colombia and beyond. As of March 2016, I am now semi-permanently located in Colima, Mexico, on a volcanology placement with CIIV. It's a tremendously exciting experience, and I hope to be able to write on a fortnightly basis about the work that the placement involves.

Meanwhile, I once again have a home from which I can write about travel. I spent seven weeks journeying through Colombia: a country singularly rich in biodiversity and poor in internet connection. What do you think of when you hear Colombia? For many people, the country is still associated with the tragedies of its ravaged past - but a different Colombia has already emerged, vibrant with colour and energy. I have been amazed at the breadth of beauty of Colombia's landscapes, and the depth of warmth shown by its people. For those who haven't yet had the privilege of going, I'd like to share with you the highlights of my trip. Let's start at the very beginning - under the grey skies of Bogotá.

Our route through Colombia, from 20th December 2015
to 9th February 2016.

Look up: a flock of dark grey clouds are crossing the sky. The weak morning sun can't penetrate their depth, and the water pressure presses down on you. You might as well be in London! Look around: a gallery of murals surrounds you. Loud splashes and puddles of colour are drizzled expertly on the prattling walls of the city. For Nathen and I, our introduction to the vibrant colours of Colombia was a street tour of graffiti art.

This tour was so good I'm going to put the link in twice. If you are in Bogotá, you must go. Here it is!

My family's usual Boxing Day tradition, honed to perfection over two decades, follows a single command: enjoy the leftovers! Extra turkey is wrapped into sandwiches, any remaining presents are unwrapped gleefully, and we crowd round the telly to gorge on programmes saved on iPlayer. On December 26th 2015, however, we were faced with a lack of leftovers. What to do? We made a radical break with tradition and decided to try something new.

The graffiti tour began at 14:00 at Parque de los Periodistas, at the foot of the monument el Templete al Libertador. We met there our host, Jay, and around thirty other tourists. It seemed to me that this tour was not an undiscovered secret of the city, a suspicion later confirmed by a Google search. Bogota Graffiti Tour is currently number two on Bogotá's list of attractions in Tripadvisor. 

After Jay had given the usual stick-together-and-listen-to-me introduction, we began. Our group left the park, crossed the Avenida Jimenez and immediately plunged into the maze of streets that makes up the photogenic district of La Candelaria.

I love photography: it is an incomporable way to colourfully record my travels when I don't have time to whip out my sketchbook. I would estimate that the majority of people who travel are, like me, 'aspiring amateurs': equipped with a good-quality camera, but unsure of how to make the most of its features to best capture their chosen subject matter. The Bogota Graffiti Tour is an excellent workshop for an aspiring amateur. The city is dense with subject matter, and by walking around at a fair pace you are encouraged to make snap decisions about compositions - I think quantity trumps quality during this stage of learning photography. As you progress through the maze of alleys, you will find yourself working with interesting perspectives and contrasts, playing with the angles of the city, working with unusual compositions. Most importantly, the fast pace of the tour keeps it fun.

For any other aspiring amateurs out there, here are a few challenges I encountered on this tour.

Perspective is an important feature. The streets are narrow and can be pressed in with people, making it difficult to find room to take pictures from the angle that you want. Sometimes I found an alternative view, like squatting and snapping from a low level; or by angling my lens steeply upwards, I could catch upon an interesting snapshot that I would have otherwise missed.

Detail. Some of my favourite parts of this tour were not the enormous, decadent murals, but instead the small details that you came across unexpectedly: a surprising juxtaposition, like fancy shoes dangling in front of graffiti footprints; or fresh plants less colourful than the peeling paint surrounding them. If shot well, these features made for a memorable photo.

Of course, in a city of nearly eight million people, you can't expect to take a photo of a street without someone getting in its way. Luckily the people of Bogotá are particularly photogenic. It's always a pleasure when a stranger passes by and unexpectedly enlivens the photo that you're taking. 

The people who surround you are living in their own inner worlds. Having a camera to capture the lives of locals who move through the static art is a privilege of the travelling tourist; and as long as the photos are taken with empathy, what's the harm? One of my favourite things to do was to make up stories of the couples and friends who were going about their daily routines in the middle of this picture gallery. For instance, what do you think of this couple underneath the caged and free birds?

I love how unaffected and inquisitive the kids look here, next to the slight listlessness of the adults in the neighbouring café. I think there's an interesting contrast between the youth in the right and their elders that are left. 

This post is definitely an indulgence for my photography, which is amateurish. On the other hand, the graffitos who put their work on the walls are masters of their craft. On many occasions, I stood transfixed by the sheer artistry of the work, and the capacity of some people to manipulate aerosol paint.

A lot of the artwork was made not only to transfix but to transform, and carried political or social messages that aimed to draw attention to the myriad issues that are affecting modern Colombia. The homeless, corrupt politicians, piñas and battle-flies and doves: unlikely neighbours, true, but they were often seen uncomfortably rubbing shoulders on the walls of Downtown and La Candelaria. On the left of the image below, you can see the battle-flies of D.J. Lu, sometimes called the Banksy of Colombia.

What I found really interesting, what our guide Jay told us, is that Colombia has a completely different attitude towards street art than other countries do. For instance, in the UK, an artist of graffiti that is deemed to have caused damage of up to £5,000 may be liable to pay a maximum of £5,000; if the damage is greater, there may be tougher sentences (Source). Colombia, meanwhile, seems to view graffiti as an addition to, rather than a slur on, its streets. The owner of a property in Bogotá can grant permission to an artist to paint his walls. Jay told us an amusing story about a graffiti collective who were warned off a property by the police; undeterred, they simply changed their canvas to the building opposite. When the police returned, the artists appealed to the building's owner - who was then in the delicious position of being able to send the police away!

At the end of the tour all that was left over was to give a donation to our guide. We gladly did, as it was easily the first highlight in a country of colour. I said the link is good enough to post twice, so here it is: bogotagraffiti.com. Do it!

Update

For any and all erstwhile readers of the blog, I'd like to provide a little update.

I realize that since my last post there's been radio silence on my end with photos, blog posts, and tweets. Everything is fine! I've left Ecuador and have just finished celebrating Christmas with friends and family in Bogota, Colombia.

The next part of my journey consists of backpacking through the country with a light backpack, so I'm of course not taking my laptop! This means that the nature of my blog will be changing. I can't upload photos at the moment, and am reliant on intermittent wifi, so posts will likely be shorter and more sporadic, and photos and sketches will be via Instagram and Twitter. I'm keeping a full sketchbook as I travel, and when normal service resumes, I'll upload some of my work from on the road.

I'm going to be back in Bogota in mid-February, where I'll rejoin my laptop and start regularly blogging again with long posts and pictures. I hope to celebrate the return with a virtual tour of street art in the capital!

Hasta luego (por el momento),
Ailsa

Volcano Top Trumps

I can't believe I'm leaving this country in less than 48 hours! I have really treasured my time here in Ecuador. By my estimate, I have been to 9 volcanoes during my two months' here. Not bad! Volcanoes are what I came for, saw, and mostly conquered; although Cayambe remained out of my reach on this occasion. My plan on return is to complete the '1-2-3': Chimborazo, Cotopaxi, and Cayambe. We'll see how I get on!

My farewell-for-now to Ecuador is this portfolio on the volcanoes I've visited so far. They're in order of the time visited between 16/10/15 and 14/12/15. I've also added stats particular to each volcano, based on the 'Top Trumps' model. Here we go! Explanations and references can be found at the bottom of the page.

                                                                                                                  

Name - COTOPAXI (Quechwa, 'mouth of the moon')

Height (m) - 5,897

Strength - 4

Agility - 1

Age - 2015 CE (years after 0 A.D.)

Fighting Skills - Volcano-tectonic, hybrid and long-seismicity events. Powerful lahars.

                                                                                                                  

Wawa Pichincha in background (4,784 m).

Ruku Pichincha (4,969 m)

Name - WAWA PICHINCHA (Quechwa, 'baby Pichincha') 

and RUKU PICHINCHA (Quechwa, 'old man Pichincha')

Height (m) - 4,784 (Wawa) and 4,696 (Ruku)

Strength - 4

Agility - 2

Age - 2002 CE

Fighting Skills - Explosive activity. Vicinity to Quito provides alarming edge to ashfalls.

                                                                                                                  

Name - CHACANA (?, Related to 'chacana' cross?)

Height (m) - 4,643

Strength - 0

Agility - 2

Age - 1773 CE

Fighting Skills - Historical andesitic lava flows.

                                                                                                                  

Name - TUNGURAHUA (Quechwa, 'throat of fire')

Height (m) - 5,023

Strength - 4

Agility - 100

Age - 2015 CE

Fighting Skills - Everything. Pyroclastic flows, ash falls, lahars, Strombolian activity, 

explosions, gas, ash, and water vapour emissions.

                                                                                                                  

Name - QUILOTOA (Quechwa, 'toothed queen')

Height (m) - 3,914

Strength - 6 (non-historic)

Agility - 0

Age - 1280 CE

Fighting Skills - Plinian eruption of VEI 6 (1280 CE), 'bottomless' lake

                                                                                                                  

Name - FUYA-FUYA (Quechwa, 'cold-cold')

Height (m) - 4,263

Strength - N/A

Agility - 4

Age - 0.2 Ma

Fighting Skills - Caldera collapse

                                                                                                                  

Name - ILINIZA (Kunza, 'masculine hill')

Height (m) - 5,248 (Sur) and 5, 126 (Norte)

Strength - N/A

Agility - 2

Age - >10,000a BP

Fighting Skills - None. Pleistocene activity, intermediate andesitic-to-dacitic composition.

Iliniza Sur (5,248 m)

Iliniza Norte (5, 126 m)

                                                                                                                  

Name - ANTISANA (Quechwa, 'dark mountain')

Height (m) - 5,704

Strength - 0

Agility - 1

Age - 1802 CE

Fighting Skills - Viscous historical blocky lava flows (c. 1800 CE).

                                                                                                                  

Name - CAYAMBE (Quitus, 'youth, origin of life')

Height (m) - 5,790

Strength - 4

Agility - 2

Age - 1786 CE

Fighting Skills - Holocene explosive eruptions, 4000a BP

                                                                                                                  

Notes: 'Strength' is based on eruption with largest VEI in historic activity (defined as since 1534, the year of Quito's foundation. 'Age' is just a number, but is defined here by date of last confirmed eruption. 'Fighting skills' defined as volcano-tectonic behaviour particularly associated with that volcano, if there is any.

References: main sources are volcano.si.edu, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andean_Volcanic_Belt, www.volcanodiscovery.com, and www.summitpost.org.
Specifically interesting pages:
- http://www.ecuaworld.com/climbing-cayambe/
- http://www.ecuador.com/protected-areas/antisana-ecological-reserve/
- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Illiniza
- https://jenainecuador.wordpress.com/2012/08/20/lagunas-de-mojanda/
- http://www.villadetacvnga.com/services/quilotoa-tour/

All that's left to say is thank you so much if you have been reading along and supporting the journey. It's really appreciated, and I love hearing back from people about the content or style, whether complimentary or critical. I love writing as a way to record my travels, and I hope this has encouraged someone to take that next step into adventure, whether that's starting a journal or planning a next trip.

Entonces, nos vemos en un ratito, Ecuador!

Sun rising north of an erupting Cotopaxi, caught from path up to Iliniza Norte.