Pottering on the beach can be hard work

Ecuador - it’s a country of contrasts. I chugged back down a river for hours to get out of the rainforest, and then a half hour plane trip took me back over the mountains to Quito. Then I didn’t even have time to wash my smalls before heading west for the coast. I needed some pottering time.

Sometimes pottering needs focus. And so I sloshed through the waves to the far end of the beach - about three miles of beach - to sit on a rock and watch these crabs. To give you some idea of scale - they are about 6-7cm across.

There are hundreds of them. As the tide turns they scrabble out of little burrows. To begin with they appear to simply run around on the beach - maybe their little eyes are getting used to the sunshine. Then they line up along the tide line. I can only assume that the sea dumps something tasty at the turn of each wave. But they are at their funniest when threatened - if I stood up and tiptoed towards them every single one scuttled as fast as its tiny legs would take it away from the sea. It must be a vibration of some sort that they feel - if I stayed completely still they came quite close. And they gave no response to sound when I tried talking to them (there was no one else around!).

Time to saunter back. Past this chap - a turkey vulture. 

He’s not huge, as vultures go, but is a bully, with no manners. I watched him eat so much of this fish I can’t see how he could ever have got off the ground. Meanwhile four black-headed vultures, who found the fish first, lurked a safe distance away. I told him he reminded me of a politician or two, but it made no difference.

At the other end of the beach, the fishermen (they are all men) were unloading the night’s catch, supervised by a skyful of frigatebirds.

This picture doesn’t do justice to the size of them - they have a wingspan of over two metres. I’ve seen them in the Galapagos - there they fish for themselves. Here in Puerto Lopez they have learned that it is much easier to allow men to do it for them and to scavenge and steal what they can. Which makes sense when fishermen throw the tiddlers away anyway.

So you see, I had quite a busy time, pottering about. So as the sun when down I sat to watch the beach volleyball, with a beer.

From the Andes to the sea, via Cuenca

First, I must give you a picture from the mountains. For 360 days of the year, the high Andes - 3,900m - are covered in cloud. So how lucky was I to be there when it was like this:

The air is thin and clear, and the lakes mirror the sky or the mountains or - occasionally - one of the brave trees that manage to cling on this high up. Walking is a challenge, especially if, like me, you live somewhere low-lying, but I puffed my way along a lovely path (stopping to admire the view at every opportunity) and it was wonderful.

I was on my way from Cuenca to Guayaquil. I spent five days trying to work out why I love Cuenca. Is it the architecture in the city centre? The churches and museums, celebrating everything from the towns indigenous beginnings through the ravages of Spanish occupation to the delights and challenges of independence? Is it the plazas and restaurants? It's certainly not the black smoke belching from the back of buses.

And then I decided it didn't matter why I love Cuenca. I just do. I love the lazy streets - it's too hot for anyone to hurry, but there's a breeze from the mountains (and it's high) so nobody fries. It's easy to walk from one side of the old city to the other along busy streets and quiet streets and forgotten streets. And it's full of very kind people.

And Guayaquil? It's the biggest city in Ecuador, and - until I went to the museum and discovered its history - it seemed to be just a big, working city. But when I learned of its past, all those rebellions, the yellow fever epidemics, a huge fire that devastated almost everything, and the way it succumbed to corruption and general mayhem until just twenty years ago, it's astonishing to see it now. Serious money has been spent - on roads, a theatre, cinema and museum complex, an international airport, a state-of-the-art football stadium. The Malecon, a walkway beside the river, is now full of children's playgrounds, a garden, shops - and plenty of security people. It don't think I can love Guayaquil like I love Cuenca, but I admire what they have achieved in such a short time.

Now - I'm in Puerto Lopez. Small children play on the beach. The ocean rolls in, and rolls in, and rolls in. And I have a hut and a hammock.