If someone asks me what makes me happy, I’m sure it’s hiking in nice weather. A few days ago I received a long-awaited package from the USA. Inside were, among other things, new hiking boots, a Garmin for navigating and route following, and a new rain cover for my backpack.

I had hastily disposed of my old boots in Colombia. Prematurely because I had not counted on the fact that there are no shoes in my size in Ecuador. I only have a slim 47.

The first day I took the bus from Latacunga to Sigchos. Immediately I stumbled out of the bus full of verve and put on my new shoes. The GPS, which was completely overkill for this trip, also got its first baptism. Before I use it under real conditions off-piste, I want to know exactly how it works. With the clunky thing attached to my backpack, I’m sure I looked silly, like I was climbing Mount Everest first.

At a small market I bought another local delicacy for lunch, guinea pig soup. Or should I say guinea pig bone soup. There wasn’t much else really. I would put it in the “I could live without it” category. Well, it did provide a bit of energy, enriched with a few potato chunks.

First it was downhill to a river and right back uphill on the other side, passing lush pastures that were barely inhabited. I wondered the whole time why there were so few animals to be seen. As I learned later from a farmer, it seems to be too dry at the moment. The rainy season doesn’t start again until the end of September. What is bad for the farmers is good for the hikers.

Arriving at the day’s destination, I actually wanted to pitch my tent, but I had no provisions for dinner with me and the cold wind was getting to me. I preferred the warm shower and a game of chess with an Israeli.

The second day really began after a few more games of chess. The landscape became more and more picturesque. Again and again it went steeply up and down, up to more than 3000 meters. Since I didn’t have enough money left, yes, history repeats itself, I only allowed myself a small lunch in Chucchilan and bought provisions for the night. All other fellow travelers stopped here. I walked another 5 km or so to make myself comfortable in my tent by the river. Unfortunately, the river was only a trickle and there was no shallow spot. So I decided to go to the other side of the embankment and look for flat land there.

Once I reached the top, I was greeted by a farmer and his father who, at my request, allowed me to camp on their small piece of land. For the first time in my life at an altitude of over 3000 meters. After I set up the tent, with little nephew Juti watching me the whole time, together we helped his uncle Segundo weed alfalfa for his guinea pigs. With a knife that looks like a sickle, you cut the whole plant off at the root. He tells me that his family only speaks Quechua, the language of the indigenous people. For me completely incomprehensible.

He also told me that his two oldest sons are currently on the move. At first I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but it turned out that they were moving to the States with the whole family to find work. Segundo was very sad when he told us that they were robbed while passing through Mexico. Fortunately, everyone seems to be okay.

Juti didn’t leave my side the whole evening. We had dinner together and later I read him a story. How nice it is when you know Spanish so well that you can talk to the locals. With hand signals it would have worked somehow, but certainly not in depth.

The next day I dismantled my tent under Juti’s supervision and set off for the last stage up the Quilotoa volcano. The many meters in altitude make one quite tired. I was acclimatized by the past weeks to about 2300 m, but the summit of 3800 m was then again quite a different number. But certainly a good preparation for the 3500 to 5000 meters of altitude that await me in Peru on Huayhuash.