My obsession for riding dirt roads, and linking dotted lines on my well-thumbed map, is getting a little inconvenient – at least if I intend to make it down to Peru… I’ve struck a rich vein of backcountry potential here in the Ecuadorian Highlands, and it’s hard to leave stones unturned.
My original intention had been to drop down to Latacunga, and follow a dirt road to Baños running parallel to the Panamerican, before climbing back out towards Ambato and Volcan Chimborazo. But when I heard about a backroute to Salinas – a stone’s throw from Chimborazo – I decided to return to Zumbahua and see if I could track it down. Although the popular IMTB map doesn’t show a way through, I was assured there was, via El Corazon – and it would all be on dirt. That was the theory.
In practise, it was even better. There’s now also a ‘seasonal’ road, open to motorbikes (and bicycles of course) that peels off before El Corazon, running directly to Simiatug, close to Salinas. The good news is that this saves you plummeting down a further 700m in altitude – which would be fun, except for the 700m climb that comes in direct reply. Best of all, it’s completely traffic-free.
From here, after a brief detour to Salinas (home to a famed chocolatier and cheesemaker), a 4200m dirt pass linked me with the paved Ambato-Guaranda road. I’d been told about a little travelled, cyclable trail that runs slap bang between mighty Volcan Chimborazo – famed for being the closest point to the sun – and it’s more humble cousin, the saw-toothed Volcan Carihuairazo. This in turn drops you out just a handful of paved kilometres from Riobamba, thus almost completely avoiding the Panamerican.
All in all, a true backcountry experience… Part 2 – Simiatug to Riobamba, via Chimborazo – next.
Returning to Zumbahua gave me the chance to hike round the edge of the Quilatoa crater, with fellow travellers Laura and Ron. By chance, I also bumped into Diego – an Ecuadorian mountain biker I’d met at Santiago’s Casa de Ciclistas – and his girlfriend Daise, so we all hiked together. Diego’s hoping to ride the Great Divide next year. Of course I’m encouraging him (-:
The half day hike teeters precariously around the crater lip, with views towards jigsaw-like canyons below.
Returning here also meant I had the chance to join the throng at Zumbahua’s bustling Saturday market, up at 3800m.
Then I was back on my own, off the tourist grid again.
A dirt road peeled off towards Angamarca, cresting a pass at over 4000m.
Me, sporting my new $5 llama-wool scarf bought at the market.
This proved to be a stunning, desolate stretch. In the distance, a wall of lower altitude clouds barreled their way towards the interlocking valley.
The terrain here was more open and barren than I’d experienced in the cultivated Quilatoa area.
Lots of singletrack potential in this neck of the woods…
These traditional huts are cut directly into the ground, the earth used for their bricks. Their thatch rooves trap heat efficiently.
Another potential travel partner…
Far, far below, down at 2950m, lay the blip of Angamarca, set deep in the valley folds. The Ecuadorian Andes drops away steeply at this point to the lower climes of the coast, creating crazy cloud formations.
There, I stopped for a helping of ‘papas fritas’ – chips – and a couple of oranges. My arrival was met with some surprise, as not too many tourists make it to these parts.
The backstreets of forgotten Angamarca.
The road continued to descend, the vegetation changing with it.
Backcountry Ecuador = a land of rugged ups and downs.
Before long, it was time to climb back once more. Clouds sweeping in from the coast enveloped the land – it was a real pea souper.
And conditions worsened too, the well-packed dirt become a soupy, tacky quagmire, and rain began to fall. It was getting dark, and camping potential wasn’t looking enticing.
As darkness fell I took a wrong turn – which ended up being just as well, as it lead me to the tiny village of Quishpe, rather than the town of El Corazon, where I’d intended to reach. There I discovered a new road that would allow me to bypass El Corazon entirely, saving a big altitude drop. My ghetto housing for the night was this shelter – at least it was dry, and a chance to air out sodden kit.
Things were looking more upbeat the next day. Soon the sun had parched the road dry for the most part.
The Ogre, in need of a good scrub behind the ears. Scott at Porcelain Rocket built me a cover for my framebag to keep out rain and muck. Works a treat.
As does mounting 800ml water bottles to the Ogre’s fork blades — they’re very easy to access, and this allows space in the frame to be maximised with a framebag. The Profile Kages offer kung fu grip.
My CST Caballeros are proving their worth on this terrain, though the rear is wearing out quickly with the added weight of my panniers. I’ll fit my more hardwearing Marathon Dureme as soon as conditions improve. Eventually, I’d like to run a pair of Duremes for day to day use, and carry two spare, lightish, fully fledged MTB tyres for mountain biking jaunts.
School break in Mindina – I was soon swamped by curious kids. Note the one checking spoke tension with his foot.
The road zig zagged up and down continuously, a couple of hundred metres at a time. A few mini land slides meant ensured seasonal road is only open to motorbikes – of which I saw one all day.
The hardest part was saved for the last 7km – I was down to my smallest gear, inching my way up towards Simiatug, chin to the handlebar.
Where, finally, I was able to get myself some lunch – a $1 plate of fish, yucca and tomatoes in the market.
And the cook.
Set in the nook of a steep side valley, Simiatug boasts some fine, well worn architecture.
When I stopped to admire and take a photo of this house, ironically it’s owner told me she hoped to pull it down, replacing it with a concrete block…
Nice hats. A puncture always draws some curious onlookers.
Simiatug has a fledgling tourist infrastructure – one hotel, unexpectedly hidden on an upper floor of a government-style building. There, a dozen cuys were being prepared for a group arriving for a community workshop the next day.
The view from the hotel. I settled into my $8 room, which included a bathroom, sporadic water and wifi. I was happy!
The Need to Know Bit:
It’s around 100km from Quilatoa to Quishpe – 77km of that is dirt. Follow the road out of Zumbahua towards Quevado, turning off onto dirt after a 10km paved climb. The road is signposted to Angamarca – Nida de Cordones – which lies at around 2950m. The highest point you reach is 4100m, before dropping down to 3700m and climbing back up again. Finally a switchback descent leads you down to Angamarca. The occasional bus plies this route – it’s all perfect, well-compacted dirt.
From there, the road drops a further 200m, before climbing back up again and then descending in earnest towards El Corazon, which lies at a lowly 1600m or so. Luckily, you can turn off towards Quichpe (2300m) shortly after Pinllopata – ask, as I got a bit lost. From Quishpe, it’s a challenging, at times muddy 38kms to Simiatug (3200m), via La Plancha and Mindina (2600m), which is 15kms before Simiatug. A hostel was almost finished when I passed through in Mindina. The last 7kms to Simiatug are particularly tough, finishing with a massive, unexpectedly steep climb. Simiatug is set within a beautiful valley. It has a restaurant, internet and a hotel. It’s really friendly too, and a lot less touristy then nearby Salinas.