Snuggled between Peru and Colombia on South America’s north-west coast, Ecuador is best known for the natural wonders of the Andes and as the gateway to the Galapagos Islands. A lesser known destination in this small little gem is Banos which is famous for all kinds of adventure activities. Below desribes 24 hours in this exciting nature town!
10pm
Wildlife in Banos
We arrive to a warm welcome at local guesthous and a British guy tells us that locals came close to noosing a guy who attempted to pinch his camera on a bus the day before.
6.45am
The alarm clock scythes through the early morning peace. My mission, should I accept it, is to rise and search for the world’s smallest hummingbird: the gorgeted woodstar.
7am
My hideout is the first-floor balcony of Casa Verde. The valley on either side is beautiful. Beneath, in the garden, is the target zone: a bright pink begonia bush.
7.05am
Doubts set in. I have never before ”birded on” and wouldn’t know a dabbling duck from a titmouse. Who am I kidding to think I can spot a bird that clocks in at 5.7 centimetres at full stretch? But soon, two hummingbirds hover into view, zip towards the begonia, then fly out of sight. One has petrol-green feathers and a sidestep Fernando Torres would envy.
7.15 am
I’ve no idea if these dawn chorus acrobats are rufous-tails, fawn-breasted brilliants, booted racket-tails or Andean emeralds but they’re too big to be Ecuador’s smallest hummingbird.
7.25am
Well, blow me over with a sparrow’s fart if there isn’t a tiny flying object bopping on the begonia. Years of inexperience convince me that it is the wondrous gorgeted woodstar, not just a bee with weight issues.
9.30am
Awake for the second time, I descend the pale wooden staircase in the morning-fresh glow of ornithological achievement to feast on organic muesli, home-made bread and sugar cane for seconds. Outside, two condors ride thermals like winged surfers high above the Rio Verde swelled by overnight rain.
10.30am
To market we go, with our host, Greenshields, and John, his three-year-old son. John, Banos’s only celebrity blonde, darts about, brave and bold as a comet, while locals shower him with affection.
11.30am
In the shadow of Tungurahua, the Black Giant, the largest volcano in Ecuador (5016 metres), we swim in the scalding hot and shrivelling cold waters of La Piscina, the thermal baths, until we’re blanched like stone fruit.
1.30pm
It’s almuerzo time. A sign on the door of Cafe Hood says: ”Bullfighting is tortura. Ni arte. Ni Cultura.” I endorse the sentiment with a beer, a bean burrito and warm husky rice.
Cafe Hood: Maldonado, next to Parque Central, phone +593 6 274 0537.
2.15pm
We are hiring bikes when the bike lady’s toddler Carolina does a bolt past me down the street. Having joined the search party, I locate the chubby escapee several frantic minutes later. She’s eating ice-cream, unfazed by the alarm she’s caused. Bikes can be hired at several shops in the centre of town for about $US5 a day. Check that the brakes and gears work before taking off.
2.30pm
The road from Banos to Puyo along the Pastaza river valley is a melodrama of waterfalls, sharp bends, sheer drops and snaking tunnels. We don’t have to pedal, just clench our butt cheeks and brake for dear life.
3.45pm
We start our descent on foot through rainforest along an old rum-smugglers’ trail to ElPailon del Diablo, the Devil’s Cauldron, a thunderous basin of fizzing water guaranteed to tackle even the toughest stains. We catch a flat-bed truck back to town to save the hassle of cycling uphill and to spare the indignity of baring my particulars to the good folk of Banos because of a wardrobe malfunction, i.e. one pair of badly torn shorts.
8pm
Dinner at Cafe Mariane. The candle light on the deep red walls makes us wish Benjamin Franklin had never had a kite; the mushroom steak’s bigger than Tasmania and, best of all, the pan flute quartet spares us Guantanamera.
11pm
I mimic the dramatic courtship dive of a hummingbird, the quickest known aerial manoeuvre in the natural world, as I collapse into bed and am out for the count quicker than a missed Kodak moment.
