Big Bowls

It simultaneously feels like another month and a half is a long time, yet there is so little time left to visit all the places I want to see! We took advantage of last weekend to visit Quilotoa Crater Lake. In the mid-1700s, this volcano erupted, then collapsed in on itself, forming a sort of bowl. Over time, rain, along with minerals burbling up from the still-active volcano, filled the crater with a turquoise-green lake.

After four hours of winding roads and a woman with an extremely obnoxious laugh, we arrived to the cold, rainy town of Quilotoa. We were greeted at the hostal by two kids about 10-12 years old, who told us yes, we could have the keys to our rooms, then continued doing homework. After we were settled in and had eaten a hearty Ecuadorian lunch, we decided to brave the rain and walk around the rim of the crater.

At first, looking down into the crater was like peering off the edge of the world: the earth fell away and there was nothing but solid gray clouds below. But halfway through the walk, the clouds lifted. The stunningly blue lake is framed by the violently jagged edges of the crater where 250 years ago, the top blew off the mountain. Seated amidst bright purple lupine and fiery red wildflowers, we gazed at the lake until the clouds closed back in.

Remember that hearty Ecuadorian lunch? That night, we were all plagued by indigestion that manifested itself in gas and sulfurous burps. I don´t think I´ve ever talked about my digestive tract so much in mixed company. By the time we were all medicated and our stomachs had settled, the small fire in the room had burned out, and were wet and freezing. We slept three people in a bed that night to keep warm.

Still cold, but cloudless, we got up at 5:30 to watch the sun rise over the crater. Later, we, along with some shepherds and their sheep, hiked down to the lake. The hike down took 20 minutes; the hike back up took 55, but it was worth it to stand in the bottom of the biggest bowl I´ve ever seen.