Going off-grid in the Andes: The importance of slowing down
Travel can be a stressful experience, navigating new, busy cities, working with a new language or even alphabet, getting used to local customs, coming across disgruntled scammers, the list goes on. It’s always more beneficial, especially on longer trips, to just take some time to yourself rather than pushing yourself to be constantly on the move.
Three weeks into a month-long trip to Ecuador I found myself feeling burned out. I was physically tired and mentally struggling, becoming more emotional and easily agitated. I had spent the past few days trekking through the Andean paramo across the breadth of the Cotacachi Cayapas Ecological Reserve through high winds and beyond freezing nights, not to mention the most Middle Earth-esque views I’d ever seen. The goal of the trek was to reach a small village named Írubi, nestled in a steep-sided valley where my colleagues and I would volunteer building an ecotourism lodge for the community, to boost tourism in this little-visited nook of Ecuador. The trek was exhausting, often hiking above cloud level, passing snowy volcanic peaks and crater lakes and arriving in Írubi brought with it that welcome change of pace.
The weather here was more temperate, cooler and less humid than the Amazon, nowhere near as frigid as the mountain tops. The bustle of Quito and the markets of Otavalo had melted into a memory. I could count on one hand the amount of cars that passed through each day, heading to San Jose de Minas no doubt, there was just one small shop fuelling my newfound addiction to Nestle wafer biscuits and Ecuadorian Fanta (it’s just better than UK Fanta), it had no set opening hours it was luck-of-the-draw whether the short walk to the door was worth it. Working on the lodge was an experience that made me glad I never got into the building trade (cement mixing for a whole hostel floor by hand really takes it out of you), but it was also taken in equal measure with relaxing. I found a spot on the porch of a nearly built block on our little campsite, it had just enough of a canopy to remain dry in the light rain and was out of tree cover allowing views to the mountain slopes. I had never been anywhere as peaceful, the loudest things for what seemed miles were the birds on the hillsides. The valley jutted almost straight up on both sides, a beautiful deep green, channelling light mists and the breeze along the corridor. The rain was light enough to crackle on the floor around and barely even dampen my coat.
A quiet little spot in the Ecuadorian Andes. © Matthew Walsh / Finding Earth
Írubi is ‘off-the-grid’ so to speak. A google maps search won’t find the village and the dirt tracks surrounding it are unnamed, but the place couldn’t have felt more welcoming. Each day residents would welcome us into their homes and cook warming meals. Rosa, the host for myself, a friend, and the trek supervisors, made the most unbelievable soup each day, usually with quinoa, chicken and vegetables. Our group was even invited by one household to join them and try Cuy, an Andean delicacy of roasted Guinea Pig, and an offer we respectfully accepted. Cuy has a strange taste, I found it confused between a mild fish and chicken, but it was certainly something I would never experience back home, so I was endlessly grateful.
From then on, my state improved, I felt less negative, less snappy, more relaxed and the creeping up of homesickness abated. I understand that not every trip can involve taking yourself ‘off-grid’ and sitting quietly in Andean valleys, but making the effort to slow down, reflect, and, most importantly, relax, can make or break a perfect trip.
