I will admit that we were both sad to be leaving Baños when it was time to move on to the next phase of our adventure which was onward to the city of Cuenca. There was something about the Tungurahua Province that had really appealed to us both, and if I had to put my finger on it, it was the natural beauty of the towering Andes mountains and the amount of rivers that flowed into the nearby Amazon basin combined with the funky vibes and energy that the area seemed to have. I honestly think it reminded us of Asheville, NC!

Cuenca had come highly revered in all of our pre-trip research with travelers raving about the architecture, culture, and food. It is the third most populous city in the country, is located in the sierra of the Andes in the southern region of Ecuador, and is home to a large population of US expats. The central historic district, where we would be staying, is recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

While only 300 km (186 miles) away, the bus ride, which was our first long haul public bus ride, took most of the day. We left Baños before 9 in the morning and arrived in Cuenca a little after 5 PM. We learned that the time they tell you a trip will take in Ecuador doesn’t mean much and is more of a jumping off point. Despite its length, this bus ride wasn’t unpleasant, and was probably one of the better ones of the trip.

We had been warned to keep a close eye on our luggage as theft is fairly common on these bus rides so we hemmed and hawed over what to do with our larger backpacks. The advice is to keep them on your lap, not underneath your seat nor in the open overhead storage areas above, and we got conflicting advice on whether or not to put them in the hold below. We did end up opting to check them into the luggage storage area below, because Google had purported that to be the safer option as they were labeled with a sticker and you were required to produce the matching receipt to retrieve them, and the bus’ attendant is in charge of the loading and retrieval of the luggage.

Our smaller daypacks of course stayed with us, and thanks to our Hero Clips, we were able to hang them over the seatback of the seats in front of us, and didn’t need to hold them on our lap the whole time. These handy doo-dads for the win, yet again!

Thankfully all of our bags stayed safe throughout our whole trip, and while we initially didn’t understand how the bag heist would occur, later in the bus ride, and on subsequent long haul bus rides, it became quite apparent. These buses operate like a hybrid of a Greyhound bus like we have in the States and a taxi/city bus, in that you can buy your ticket for the long haul ride, or simply hail them and hop on and hop off at any point along their route. (This is the main reason the trip takes so long- the constant stopping to load/offload passengers.)

Within small towns, vendors would board the bus, often several of them at once, peddling their various wares, mostly food items- loudly and emphatically. Sometimes they would hop back off immediately after their enterprising, while other times, after their initial sales pitch, they would simply stay on the bus and ride along for a few kilometers, grabbing a seat and lurking quietly somewhere in the background, blending into the backdrop of the bus ride before deciding at a future stop to hop up and off the bus. No apparent credentialling, just random people selling random things. In the hustle and bustle of passengers boarding/leaving at a stop, it would be quite easy for a nefarious actor to grab a bag, especially late at night while the passenger might be dozing, and take it right off the bus, or take a seat behind you, slice into your bag, fish out your valuables, then disappear into the ether.

The chaos provides the perfect environment for this. As a passenger, you would have no recourse, because once you discovered the theft, the thief would have been long gone and would be impossible to find. We also learned that sometimes, especially in the notoriously corrupt coastal regions, drivers and their bus attendants are in on the ruse too.

Speaking of chaos… they play movies on these buses. This brought back memories of middle school field trips on a charter bus in the mid 90’s, prior to the invention of smartphones. The movies were broadcast en español as you would expect, but at a volume that you would absolutely not expect in an enclosed space, and whoever was in charge of picking out today’s movies on this particular route seemed to be a big fan of the Fast and Furious franchise as well as action movies featuring John Cena. It seemed that the requirement to qualify for a showing on this bus was that the movie needed to have EXCRUCIATINGLY LOUD ACTION SCENES so that you would be forced to pay attention to the movie blaring out of the speakers a few inches above your head and not anything else.

Scott, ever the well-prepared traveler, simply whipped out his ear plugs and stuck them into his ears. I however, had left mine in my big bag, and quickly made a mental note to transfer them to my smaller daypack in the future. I eventually tapped him on his arm (he couldn’t hear me since he was wearing them) and asked him if he would ask the attendant to turn it down the next time he made his rounds through the bus. He obliged, and the attendant produced a remote and dialed it back a few measly decibels. About a half hour later, after my nerves were ragged from the nonstop noise stimulation, another passenger requested the same thing and the attendant again obliged and brought it down to a now tolerable level. You think he would have taken the hint and seen that no one on the bus was remotely interested in the movie but he didn’t¹.

So, this led Scott to purchase, as soon as we returned home, a tiny spy-sized little hacking device that will allow him to surreptitiously turn off any nearby TV’s. Serious spy $hit.

We didn’t know what to expect in regards to being able to take potty breaks, so initially we were conservative on our hydration. For whatever reason, this bus stopped somewhat frequently for a few minutes at a time in small towns and we were able to go hunt up a pay potty. On subsequent bus rides this was not the case, and while the bus would stop to pick up and drop off, passengers better be nimble, quick, and ready to tuck and roll, because the bus barely slowed to a stop before roaring away again.

At one of these stops in the middle of nowhere rural Ecuador, in the small village of Chunchi, we hopped off to buy a potty experience, and as we were returning to the bus, saw a row of food stalls set up. Many of the proprietors and their customers seemed surprised at Americans popping up in their village and a few asked where we were from. At one of the stalls we encountered a warm-smiled abuela rolling out dough for empanadas. We indicated that we wanted a few of them and using Google Translate to answer her question about what type of fillings we would like, we told her to surprise us. She stuffed them with cheese and a little sprinkle of love before placing them into the wok-like pan of boiling oil. And boy, were they delicious! They were light, airy, and had just the right amount of chewiness. I am still thinking about them over a month later.

The drive out of Baños was impressive. The bus had to make a slow and steady climb up over the Andes and many times it seemed like we were in the clouds. At one point, as we made our descent into the town of Alausi (home of the Devil’s Nose train ride), a road sign announced a 12% grade and I was thankful for the apparently healthy brakes on our bus and I could hear the engine exhaust braking system working hard to slow us as well. (For comparison, the Saluda Grade that I-26 climbs between SC and NC is 7%.) It was enjoyable watching the scenery of the subtropical highlands out the window and it was amazing to see the patchwork farmland clinging to impossibly steep mountain faces. Humans are both tenacious and ingenuitive and across the globe are able to cultivate crops surprisingly well in seemingly improbable places. (At one point, Scott quipped, “and we can’t even grow a freaking tomato!”)

But back to Cuenca… we, as well as our luggage, arrived safely later that evening. Arriving in the large and busy bus terminal, we had decided to check out our transportation options for the next leg of our trip while we were already here. We learned a few lessons while here.

First off, human beings can be incredibly kind. We were struggling, despite having Google translate, to convey that we needed to get from Cuenca to Puerto Lopez in a few days. The bus company ticket booth worker that we were initially trying to speak to informed us that there were no options for this and he eventually hailed down a man that also spoke English to escort us across the terminal to a company who offered a potential route. (This brought back memories of us in Belgium with our “lost travellers” hall pass when we accidentally ended up at the North Sea.) We were thankful for his generosity. He got us to a company that offered a Cuenca to Montanita route which would get us about an hour away from Puerto Lopez. This was not ideal, but was doable since we could take a taxi or use a ride share app to get us the rest of the way. However, what was suboptimal was the fact that we would arrive in Montanita well after midnight and would then need to get ourselves to Puerto Lopez in the wee hours of the morning. Puerto Lopez had recently found itself in the midst of a wee bit of pesky cartel violence and we had been on the fence about whether we should potentially skip our visit there, so the idea of arriving in the witching hours didn’t make us super excited². However, figuring it was our best option at the moment, we forged ahead and bought the tickets.

The second lesson that we learned was that things can be lost in Google Translation. Nuance and context is important but often hard to convey when having to translate from one language to another. The ticket booth operators were correct in that there are no direct Cuenca → Puerto Lopez routes, but what they failed to mention was that to get there you would need to go Cuenca → Guayaquil → Puerto Lopez, essentially using the big city of Guayaquil like a hub. In hindsight, this seems obvious, but in the moment and at the busy bus terminal, relying on Google Translate, it was not.

Thirdly, a great hotel manager can be invaluable. We took a taxi from the bus terminal to the central historic district where we were to be dropped off at the Casa Montalvo. The hotel has a 9.6 rating on Booking.com and it is quite obvious why that is.

The manager, Wilmer, welcomed us warmly, and invited us inside Casa Montalvo. He asked us about our trip so far and gave us a rundown of the property and its offerings. When Scott mentioned the next leg of our journey and our need for a wee hours of the morning taxi to take us from Montanita to Puerto Lopez, Wilmer gave him a polite but quizzical look but then immediately offered to help us find a driver. He gave us some dinner recommendations and then showed us to our room.

When we returned from dinner, an unremarkable but expensive Mexican experience, he had already secured a driver for us. It is important to note that we were over 400 kilometers away from Montanita and he was able to network to find an option for us. But it gets better. The next morning, after he had had some time to think it over, he suggested that instead of proceeding with our original plan, that rather, we should take a private van from Cuenca to Guayaquil and then a bus from Guayaquil to Puerto Lopez, negating the need for the early morning taxi leg. We agreed that this plan sounded much better so he called the van company, set it all up, gave us detailed instructions on the transfers, booked our taxi for the 5:30 AM pickup from his hotel to the van depot, and offered to make us boxed lunches for the 8 hour bus ride. He saw us off early that morning and wished us well. He was truly unbelievable and went out of his way to be sure that we would get safely to our next stop.

So, back to Cuenca… oops, I think that needs to be its own post. Stay tuned!