We woke up a little sad this Monday morning because today was our very last day in Ecuador and we would have to say goodbye not only to the pretty little fishing village of Puerto Lopez, but to the entire country, and head back home later this evening.

Yesterday while chatting with a German couple on our Isla de la Plata tour, Scott and I had learned about a hike to the Los Frailes beach located within the nearby Machalilla National Park that was said to have some of the best beaches in the country. Our plan was to check it out and Scott worked out the logistics of us getting there.

I couldn’t tell if Scott was more excited about the promise of a secluded and beautiful white sand beach with turquoise water, or about being able to practice catching one of the big canton¹ to canton buses to take us there and back. The hotel granted us our wish of a later checkout which was nice because this meant that after a day of hiking to the beaches and perhaps swimming in the ocean, we would be able to shower and change before heading to the airport. I can tell you from several past experiences that getting on a plane while a little sandy and salty is not something I find particularly enjoyable although I don’t even think it registers on Scott’s radar.

After breakfast at the hotel (ask Scott sometime about how he felt about their one cup of coffee per patron policy) we packed our bags with water and snacks, including the remaining big hunk of “bus banana bread,” and set off into town. We quickly flagged down a passing mototaxi, the Ecuadorian equivalent to a Thai tuktuk, just outside Hosteria Mandala and asked to be taken to the nearby bus terminal. For a few cents we bought a lift to the park, told the porter as we boarded the bus that we wanted to be dropped off there, and took our seats. We were curious how this would go and if the driver would know that we wanted to get off here but thankfully the porter had conveyed our wishes to him and the bus came to a stop a few miles later at the entrance to Machalilla. We hopped up, thanked him and descended the bus steps.

At the entrance booth we were asked to show our passports, signed our names on a ledger, and were welcomed in. We walked along the park’s gravel road for about a half mile before turning off and catching the trail that would take us to the coast and eventually the Los Frailes beach.

Once on the trail, we took in the sights and smells of the rare, and Ecuador’s only, tropical dry forest climate. It looked and felt remarkably similar to Isla de la Plata with its thickets of intimidating and thorny looking leafless trees and the occasional cactus, and it was similarly dry, arid, and had a slightly sunburnt appearance. I later learned that the scrubby trees that make up the vegetation in this area shed their leaves during the dry season in an attempt to conserve precious moisture. The woods surrounding us, and in hindsight, Puerto Lopez as well, smelled quite pleasant. On yesterday’s hike we had learned that we were smelling the aromatic palo santo tree whose sweet smelling wood is harvested and used for incense as well as to repel mosquitos.

We came to a few scenic overlooks and were able to gaze out over the Pacific and the rugged coastline that it had shaped. Several of the viewpoints required climbing up long stretches of incline and steps and we stopped often for water breaks. The views were well worth it though.

We carried on and eventually dropped down onto the first of the three beaches in the park. We had been warned that the currents at the first two beaches we would encounter were dangerous and that we should wait to swim until we reached Los Frailes, and I was proud of Scott for heeding the warnings that we had received, as well as the posted placards stating the dangers, and staying out of the water here although I know he wanted to go in.

When we reached Los Frailes after about an hour of walking, we discovered that we had the whole exquisite beach to ourselves. As promised, it had clean white sand and the water in the bay formed by the dramatic cliffs was a lovely turquoise. Scott quickly shucked off his clothes and made a beeline for the water. While he was frolicking in the surf and enjoying the waves, I set up our beach stuff and helped myself to some of our “bus bread.” Although we had been munching on it for days, it seemed like we had barely made a dent in it. While Scott was enjoying his skinny dip, and me, my banana bread, some other beachgoers had appeared which necessitated me eventually swimming out to Scott to deliver his swim trunks to him before he could wade back onto the beach.

After our swim, and Scott now decent again, we made our way back onto the beach and enjoyed the sun. We knew that this was our last chance to soak up the sun’s warmth as the East Coast of the US had been pummeled by the icy wrath of Winter Storm Fern a few days prior and we would be returning to the aftermath of that². It made the sun’s rays even sweeter knowing what was awaiting us at home. After about an hour on the warm sand of Los Frailes, we reluctantly peeled ourselves away and started the hike back since we did eventually need to embark on our bus journey that would take us back to Guayaquil so we could catch our plane home.

For our hike back we walked along the park’s gravel driveway the whole way- and although a shorter distance, was a hotter, dustier, and less scenic experience than the way we had come in. As we walked, I began to notice an irritating tickle in my throat and chalked it up to allergies or the dust and heat. Spoiler alert: I would quickly learn that it was not allergies or the heat. Patient Zero who I had been seated next to, and coughed upon by for several hours, on our minibus trip from Cuenca to Guayaquil en route to Puerto Lopez, had blessed me with whatever viral affliction she possessed and it would go on to kick my a$$ and knock me down for about a week upon our return.

Eventually about a mile and a half later, we reached the entrance and Scott excitedly scanned the highway for a bus to flag down. He had been waiting for this moment all day and now was his time to shine. After about five minutes, lo and behold, what should appear, but a bus rounding the curve, and he waved at it excitedly. It screeched to a halt, we boarded it, gave the driver 50¢ each, and took our seats as it blasted off again, belching exhaust as it went.

When we arrived back at the bus terminal we found a mototaxi and told them that we were willing to pay $1 for a trip back to the Hosteria Mandala (we were seasoned enough now to know what the going market rate for this trip should be). The first driver we approached found this agreeable and we quickly found ourselves back at the hotel.

We showered and packed up our stuff, being sure that our cold weather gear that we hadn’t needed since our Cotopaxi days was easily accessible as our weather apps warned of rudely frigid temps back at home and we knew we didn’t want to freeze once outside the airport.

We checked out of the hotel and made our way down the sidewalk to find a restaurant for lunch. A few doors down we stopped at a pizza place that we noticed while walking back and forth into town and decided to give it a try. We grabbed seats on the covered porch overlooking the Puerto Lopez beach and each ordered a tall Pilsener, the flagship beer of Ecuador. We put in our order and as we waited sipped our beers and reminisced over the adventures we had experienced over the past two and half weeks. We were still in awe of the country and all it had to offer, amazed that a country the size of Colorado could have such diversity of climate, ecosystem, and weather, and that we had barely scratched the surface of all that it had to offer.

With bellies full we reluctantly mototaxied back to the bus terminal, purchased our tickets on the Jipijapa line for the three and half hour ride back to Guayaquil, and once back at the airport killed time until we were allowed to clear Customs and go to our gate. When the Customs agent handed me back my passport he was singing Sweet Home Alabama to me and it took me a second to realize that he had noticed that my place of birth listed on the passport is Alabama. I laughed and gave him a thumbs up. When we got to the next agent and he asked us how long we had been in Ecuador I had to pause for a second because my initial answer that popped into my head was “not long enough.” Once on the plane Scott and I both bid hasta luego³ to the country that we just fallen in love with and steeled ourselves for the frigid temps that awaited us at home as the plane taxied down the runway.