Home Alone

April 3, 2006 - After waking up in before dawn in Chugchilán – a remote mountain town in Ecuador's central Andes – and retracing our steps back along a windy dirt road through Quilotoa to retreive my forgotten journal, we headed north to El Chaupi. We arrived in the small, dusty town off the Pan American highway with our hopes set on the Hacienda San Jose del Chaupi, and walked the remaining 3km out of town to the working farm and guesthouse. The farm was well situated at the base of the Illinizas – twin 17,000 foot peaks we planned to climb the next day.

We reached the farm around noon, feeling as though we had a whole day behind us, and ready to settle in and maybe indulge in some high quality napping. After waiting on the porch for a few minutes, and warding off three large and excited dogs, a small woman in knee-high rubber boots and overalls came to let us in. A note posted to the side of the front door informed us that if the owner was not at the farm, the caretaker (Juan) would call him so he could return and welcome us personally. We set down our heavy bags, took off our boots, and made ourselves comfortable in the well-appointed but empty living room.

Thirty minutes went by, then forty, and I finally became restless and stood up to wander around. A bulletin board held postcards, trip information, and a hand-written note asking us to make sure the dogs didn't follow us if we left the farm, as they were liable to get lost in the mountains. If necessary, the note read, we were to use a stick to discourage them. However, the note entreated, San José del Chaupi encourages kind treatment and respect of all animals.

I continued to explore, peering down the hall to the vacant guest rooms and making my way back through the dining room. On a cupboard, yet another hand-written note invited us to help ourselves to the breakfast supplies within—eggs, tea, coffee, and chocolate. The refrigerator held butter and cheese, and we were invited to ask Juan, the caretaker, for fresh milk. After boiling water for tea and chocolate, I returned to the living room to wait.

After another 45 minutes with no sign of our host, we decided to head into town and pick up supplies for the next day's hike before the rain made its daily appearance. First, we checked in at the barn to inquire if Rodriguez, the owner, was expected any time soon. The same rubber-boot clad woman came out to greet us.

"He'll be back in a few hours."

"A few hours?" I confirmed, "would it be better if we found a different place to stay?"

She shrugged. "If you want."

We still held high hopes for the place, so we returned to the main house, piled our bags neatly in the corner, and walked to town, accompanied by the most energetic of the three dogs. He'd apparently figured out the stick trick, and followed us from a distance of 50 meters. Stocked up on tuna, Tupperware, and pasta—plus crackers, chocolate, and snacks—we returned to the Hacienda and set to the kitchen. As we sat down to eat, Juan the farm caretaker finally showed up. Rodriguez, the owner, would be back tomorrow morning he said, and would bring breakfast—wait just a moment, he'd call him now to let him know we were here. I sat back down to my pasta, and when I returned, Juan had left. We would have the Hacienda to ourselves until the next day. Eventually, we picked out a room, made the bed (another handwritten note told us where to find the sheets) and finally took that nap.

The next morning, Rodriguez was back and preparing breakfast. After we packed for our hike, we sat down to fresh rolls, fresh juice, and fresh (really fresh!) milk from his cows. The meal was rounded out with scrambled eggs, butter and jam, and plus coffee, tea, or chocolate. After breakfast, Rodriguez drove us to the trailhead and wished us luck.

Contact Hacienda San José del Chaupi:

Website: http://www.hostal.biz/sanjose.html
Email:mailto:farget@hostal.biz

Lodging, including continental breakfast, starts at $10 pp. Rodriguez can also provide transportation to several trailheads and points-of-interest in the area.