Rio Napo, Oriente, Ecuador

Miscahuali—Ecuador Oriente (January 1994)

   After a pleasant visit to the Galapagos, Blanca had to go back to Spain. The day she left, I took a bus from Quito to the spa town of Banos (via Ambato) Then I continued east for what proved to be an exciting several days in Ecuador’s Oriente. The highlight was a trip in a passenger canoe, starting from the small village of Mishualli and going Rio Napo to Coca.

Sunday, January 9.

   My bus route took me from Banos to Puyo, then to Puerto Napo and on to Misahuali. The Banos-Puyo section was spectacular: verdant mountains with cascading waterfalls form a luxuriant canyon, through the bottom of which flows the Rio Pastrasa.

   At Puerto Napo, I caught a pickup truck to Mishuali, which is small, very agreeable, river town. The Albergue Espanol, run by a fellow from Santander and his buddy from Barcelona, was an expected treat ($7 double). I didn’t expect to be able to drink fino and espresso in the middle nowhere.

   I learned that a boat may be leaving for Coca the next morning.

Monday, January 10.

   The boat did in fact leave. It was a motorized (40 h.p. outboard) dugout canoe. I’d previously bought a plasticized grain sack to protect my pack. My fellow passengers were two, typical, full-of-fun Australians who I have already encountered at the motel.

   The trip to Coca took about 6 hours and cost 26,000 sucres (about $13). The “crew” consisted of two teenagers, one of whom was at the helm, while the other was in the bow, where he watched for floating debris. This was a super trip. We glided down the Rio Napo, surrounded by pure Amazon river rainforest on both sides. The boat is scheduled to make the trip Sun-Wed—Fri, but will apparently leave when there are at least four passengers. We were five going all the way, with one person getting off at a small village about an hour down river. This was an extremely pleasant day!

   Coca is a rather a pit: a dirty oil town; it looks just like what it is. But the river is nice to sit by. I ate a great dinner at La Mission, which left my lips numb.

Tuesday, January 11.

   I woke up to a torrential rain. I tried to get a plane ticket to get back to Quito, but the flight was booked. The kid with the canoe wanted me to go back with him, but he was planning to take two days.

   I decided to take the bus to Tena (7 hours), and then another bus to Mischualli. The bus was bursting at the seams, and as soon as we reached the outskirts of town, the driver stopped and a large number of people, including me, climbed up on the roof.

   When I got back to the Albergue Espanol, Ramon, the owner, arrived from Quito. I also had an interesting talk with a family from Botswana.

Wednesday, January 12.

   It was raining hard, and the electricity was out. I walked into town and sat down in a café for breakfast. Just across the street a group of men were unloading sacks of rice. They’d get in line, wait their turn, and the guy in the bed of the truck would put one of the sacks on their bended backs. I decided to play the gringo loco. I went outside and got in line, not saying a word to anyone. There were some suppressed giggles, but no one said anything. When my turn came, I bent down as the sack was placed on my back. Jesus, it must have weighed 100 lbs! I crumpled to the ground; gales of laughter everywhere. I was lucky not to have broken my back.

   I went out for a run. After about an hour on the Puerto Napo Road, I found the entrance to a steep, rain-swollen path to the Cascadas. I then spent about 2 hours mucking around in the jungle with mud up to my knees. It was very slippery, as the rain continued to obliterate the trail. For a while I thought I was lost. Galapagos all over again! But finally I emerged into a field. I kept walking until I came to an Indian village, where I barged into a school building with a class of 8-year-olds, none of whom spoke very good Spanish. I quizzed them in arithmetic. I think that their teacher was not amused by my antics. I don’t think he knew how to respond to a mud-spattered white man in running shorts kibitzing with his pupils.

   I turned around and worked my way back down what remained of the trail. At that point I was pretty beat up. Luckily, when I finally emerged on the main road, a passing army truck gave me a lift back to Mischuali. I was alone in the canvas-covered truck bed, reeking of industrial oil, and without anything to hold on to, as the truck lurched back and forth over the pitted road.

   I went back to Quito (5 hours): first in a bus to Tena, and then in another (via Baeza) back to the capital. The scenery was spectacular.

 I found a room at the Posada Maple that had five beds in it ($12). I had a good dinner—corvinna a la vasca--at Alcala, which was owned by Ramon, my host in Michueali.

Thursday, January 13.

  I took a bus out to the Mitad del Mundo, the spot that marks the equator. Lunch at Puerta de Alcala.

  I spent the night at the Airport Hotel ($20), which was a good idea.

  This short stay in the Oriente whetted my appetite for more. One day, I want to go down the Rio Napo and keep going—all the way to the Atlantic. The problem is the section of the river between Ecuador and Peru, which is always a hotspot. But once past the military checkpoints, it’s clear sailing all the way to Belem. We’ll see.