CHAPTER 22
El Nariz del Diablo, or the Devil’s Nose, is a world famous stretch of train track running south from Ecuador’s high central mountains to the lower fertile coastal plains. What makes the Nariz del Diablo so impressive is the fact that the track has to descend an incredibly steep mountain slope, which normally would be impassible using normal train track building techniques… Or at least that is what we were told. Now, to be fair, there were a few things acting against us in our goal to ride the Devil’s Nose. First, when we arrived to the dirty city of Riobamba, where the train trip originated, we were told at the station that they were sold out! Sold out?!? How? We are in the middle of Ecuador in the low season- there isn’t another tourist in sight- how in the H can you be sold out??? Oh, you’re actually sold out till the middle of January?!?! I don’t believe this…
We decided to stay the night and show up at the station early to grab any seats that had been reserved by no-shows. 6am came and sure enough, miraculously, dozens of camera toting tourist seemingly appeared out of nowhere. If you ever see Riobamba, you will understand our surprise at seeing all these tourists, let alone any tourists- it is a crowded, dangerous feeling town, with nothing to do, nowhere decent to eat, and aside from the two or three hotels right next to the train station, nowhere to stay. Our hotel was almost empty, and the others looked about the same. They must all bus in from somewhere… How ever they get there, they get there, and the “train” was full. That was the second thing that stitched us up: the “train” that we were so excited to board and ride like a roller coaster down the mountains of Ecuador, was nothing more than an old school bus with train wheels welded on to the bottom of it! I was expecting a long, gilded, steam locomotive from the days of old. Turns out that the track is in such a state of disrepair that the regular old train can’t make the journey safely anymore, and they are using these retrofitted buses as a temporary solution. On top of this, or rather not on top of it, was the fact that until 2007, when two tourists got their heads chopped off by a low hanging wire, you used to be able to ride on top of the train- an experience that I never thought I would get unless I became a hobo. Needless to say, we thought our prospects for riding the train were done for, but then the up-until-then-unhelpful-guy-at-the-ticket-counter told us that there was a second trip leaving that day from a town about an hour south of Riobamba, and that they might have 2 spots if we were lucky. We could wait and call the office when it opened at 8am, or since it was only 7am, we could drive down there and be at their door when it opened. We chose to drive down, since we would have to go there anyways if they did have available seats, and got there just at 8. Along with two other fortunate travelers, we secured the last four seats on the train for the afternoon trip to the Nariz del Diablo.
We clambered aboard the old BlueBird school bus, and took our seats at the back with great anticipation for the adventure about to unfold. The train pulled away from the station and made its way out of town towards a large canyon to the south. The view was pretty nice, the high walls of the valley towering above us, and a raging river far below in the bottom of the canyon- but when we finally got to the “engineering marvel” that makes the Nariz del Diablo so famous, it turned out to be just a set of switchbacks where the train would pull forward on to a dead end section of track, reverse down the middle section of switchback on to another dead end section, and then resume going forward down the canyon. I couldn’t believe it- all this hype for a tame train, or bus rather, ride down to a small station, where we got to walk around for a few minutes, and then reload and return up the valley. Ok, maybe in 1905 when they first thought of using switchbacks for their train track, it might have been a little more impressive, but haven’t they ever been to Switzerland? Ever heard of a cog railway? People have been constructing train tracks up steep mountains since they have been constructing train tracks. Even in Colorado we have a cog railway, leading up to the top of Pikes Peak, where the view is a lot more impressive than the bottom of a dusty valley in Ecuador. I guess I probably am sounding a little jaded, but it just seemed like a lot of hype, and work on our part, for something that can only be described as not quite as impressive as I was hoping. What’s more, a month later when we took the train from Cusco, Peru up to the famous Inca ruins of Machupicchu, they employed a similar switchback arrangement for their train track, but you don’t hear them shouting about it.
Well, to make up for our experience on the train, we decided to go do something really impressive. We usually try to camp when we get the chance, and there happened to be a national park close by that sounded promising. We drove up to the entrance of the Volcan Chimborazo National Park in a dense fog. Chimborazo, at an elevation from sea level of 6310 meters, or 20,702ft, is technically the highest point on the planet. Yes, higher than Everest. Due to the bulge of the Earth around the equator caused by the centripetal motion of the planet’s rotation, the peak of Chimborazo, located very close to the Equator, is actually farther from the center of the Earth than any other point on the planet. This fact gave a certain novelty to our adventure, but we had no idea of what we were about to see.
We were very high. There were no trees, or grasses, or even moss. What we could see of the surrounding landscape looked lunar, with dark grey and black gnarly boulders strewn as far as the concealing fog would allow. We parked the truck on a flat expanse of gravel a few hundred yards from the end of the road leading up the mountain. A sign informed us that the elevation was 4800 meters, or 15,748ft. This was the highest either of us had ever been, aside from airplanes, and you could feel the thinness of the air when you breathed. The fog was oppressive and cold, so we set up the truck camper tent and bundled up inside playing cards and reading. Soon, heavy waves of hail started pelting the tent, causing a cacophony that sounded like machineguns. We almost considered closing it up and sleeping on the elevated deck in the bed of the truck, but inspecting for damage outside showed none. And then the most amazing thing happened. The sound of hail stopped and the tent began to glow a reddish hue. We jumped outside, and what we saw was incredible. The fog had disappeared, and we were standing on an island looking out over a sea of soft clouds painted vibrant reds and oranges. The massive snow covered peak of Chimborazo was awash in pink and loomed over our heads from behind. The landscape was a tortured expanse of jagged boulders and pumice gravel, covered in a thick layer of perfectly round hailstones, each reflecting the brilliance of the setting sun. It felt like we were watching the sun set from the surface of the moon. It was, without a doubt, one of the most impressive sights I have ever seen.
The sun sank under the ocean of clouds just as another black storm enveloped the peak of the volcano, so we retreated into our small canvas cave of protection. When we were awake, breathing was easy, but during the night we would periodically awake gasping for air, which led to a long fitful sleep. We both woke up with slight headaches from the elevation, and decided that Chimborazo had shared enough of its secrets with us for this trip- we packed up and left the mountain behind.
We arrived in Cuenca early that afternoon- a charming colonial city that doesn’t let on that it is Ecuador’s 3rd largest. The main plaza was pleasant to sit around and watch people hustle about on their way to work or school. The Christmas season was in full swing, but it felt strange watching the city workers put up and decorate a giant Christmas tree in the middle of a bunch of swaying palm trees. We spent the next few days taking care of errands that had piled up since leaving Colombia, doing some maintenance on the truck, and planning our route through Peru.
Ecuador was good to us. It was the cheapest country we had been to, and we were loath to leave it. We had heard rumors, which proved to be true, of gas costing $4US a gallon in Peru- a huge difference from the $1.50 we were paying in Ecuador- and Peru is a surprisingly long country. But it wasn’t going to drive across itself, so on December 4th, we loaded into the truck and crossed the border into the land of the Incas.
Prev ChapterNext Chapter
