Kathleen was feeling much better than yesterday’s gastro-intestinal doldrums that kept her in bed most of the day. We decided to hike up along a ridge trail above the hostel. Again, we wanted to make a loop. Starting out late morning we took our time as Kathleen wasn’t quite ready to storm up the steep ridge like Allied troops taking Normandy. Her usual state during a hike. 
One of the touristy activities is to take a horseback ride up the ridge trail to the falls. As we had observed in Tayrona National Park, Colombia, the trail along the ridge above the Rio Yambala was deeply incised from the combination of hooved traffic and rain run-off. In some places the trail was a trench. Switchbacks and a few water-bars would help.
We periodically stopped and looked out over the vistas provided by the Ecuadorian highlands. We encountered a family group from Calgary, Canada on holiday from the minus temperatures of their home town. During the course of the conversations, we told them our sob-story about our foiled motorcycling trip of South America. They then told us of another terrorist attempt on a U.S. plane in Detroit on December 25th. Something about a guy trying to light explosives he had in his underwear. Other passengers pounced on the guy and quelled the potential disaster. However, the Canadians went on to say that now the U.S. air-carriers were going to limit passengers to one carry-on item. Kathleen and I didn’t understand the connection. The Canadians didn’t either, except to say that because of the actions of the U.S., foreign carriers will follow suit. Kathleen and I are traveling with our motorcycle helmets as we’ve been advised by a number of South Americans that shipping them home could be risky as the label will have to state what’s in the box. We’d rather not lose a thousand dollars worth of motorcycle gear. Now, we’ll probably be charged for the extra carry-on item.
As we parted ways with the Canadians, they told us we weren’t far from the waterfall further along the ridge trail. Kathleen and I set out for the falls. The trail leveled off and we came to a creek where cows were lounging creek-side. The bovids were quite placid as I tugged on the horn of this one.
The Canadians described the route to the falls as involving a gate and tin-roofed shed. After searching about, we concluded that we should take the path, through the gate, by the shed beyond which the path goes down slope through a cornfield. Sure enough, we came to the falls. The day was hot and the falls looked inviting. Yet, neither Kathleen nor I could shake the thought of what those cows had been depositing in the creek above the falls.
As we couldn’t find a route down to where the creek fed into the Rio Yambala beyond the falls, we hiked back up to the shed. The topography and vegetation didn’t lend to a route to a trail we could see across to the opposite canyon wall. Kathleen and I decided to hike back the way we had come earlier in the day. The sun was low on the horizon, and some clouds kept the sun from beating on us.As we hiked back we couldn’t help but notice some houses had vegetation around them while others looked like they were surrounded by lunarscapes. This puzzled us until we got back to the hostel and asked Charlie about this observation. Charlie said that a number of foreigners, including expatriate hippies, retire in the area. The native South Americans go for lunarscapes because they allow their livestock to eat everything. The non-native retirees and ex-pats maintain a yard of fruit trees and gardens for produce and aesthetics.
Dinner was by candlelight as the power was temporarily shut off do to the lack of water in the local reservoirs to run the turbines at the hydroelectric stations. After dinner, Kathleen and I settled into our cabaña for the evening.
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