The flight down to Ecuador was just as exhausting. A series of unexpected stops offered an impromptu tour of beautiful San Salvador, lovely Managua, fabulous San José, and sunny Guayaquil - all landings our travel agent had neglected to include on our itinerary. At last we touched down in Quito, Ecuador's capital, and thankfully, my sister Sandy was waiting just outside the terminal as planned. After a quick hug, she rushed us and our luggage (which had miraculously arrived) straight into a taxi. Anticipating a looming transit strike, she wanted us all out of the city as soon as possible.

We drove two hours to spend the night in Otavalo, where Sandy rents a small apartment for 53,000 sucres (US$20) a month. At dawn, we gathered supplies for the farm and reserved seats on the bus to Santa Rosa. The bus ride across creek beds and mountainsides was bone-rattling at best, and downright scary at worst. Sandy casually pointed out a nasty rock slide that had occurred since she had passed this way the previous day.

Map of
Ecuador.

There is no road from Santa Rosa to the farm, just a colonial trail navigable by foot, horse, and the occasional motorbike. In spite of this, my sister and her husband enjoy all the modern conveniences possible, either from supplies available in Ecuador or brought by friends visiting from the US. Our contribution: rolls of duct tape, which cost about US$10 in Otavalo but a mere $1.50 in California. The tape will re-inforce a 4-foot-deep swimming pool they've built to teach their two young boys to swim.

Photo by Allison Yates

Two solar panels provide enough juice to run dim electric lights, a radio, a laptop computer, and an electric piano. Plastic-covered hoses heat water for showers if the day is sunny enough. A regular sprinkling of ashes in the dug-out latrines deters any unpleasant odors.

Allison and I stayed in a cabin about 100 yards from their house. It perches on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a spectacular valley that stretches out about two miles to where another mountain rears up. The river below provided a constant, soothing soundtrack. We had a small flashlight, but we relied on candles as we sat talking and reading into the night. We each had our own room with bunks, a chair, and two small shelves for our gear. It was the kind of place we'd dreamed of running away to as kids: far from your parents, with your best friend living next door, and three big hammocks swinging from the roof beams.