A less than safe introduction to rock climbing. Ecuador style.
I would describe myself as a traveler, more than a climber, so what you’re about to read is not a tale of me using my awesome climbing skills to scale a professional grade wall, but more a tale of how things are done in a small, laid-back town in the Ecuadorian Andes foothills, from the cheerfully ignorant perspective of a novice climber.
Our first South American climbing adventure
To qualify, I have done a couple of years bouldering (climbing low walls with no ropes), indoor in the UK, but my knowledge of outdoor safety techniques sits somewhere between weak and non-existent. So please enjoy my relaxed disposition on a day’s climbing in Baños, a small adventure town in Ecuador.
I’d been traveling in South America for a month and a half by this stage, so the manner of our arrival is almost banally typical. A nine hour bus, careering around the narrow mountain roads as fast as possible, except when stopping to pick up more passengers (from wherever they decide to stand) and vendors of dried fruit, fresh fruit, cold chicken, hot chicken, toys, and anything salted, sugared or deep-fried. Stopping was usually a nice reprieve from the blind corner overtaking until the burning smell from the brakes became overpowering.
Details aside, the town itself is a lot of fun. White-water rafting, canyoning and paragliding are the main activities but after a lot of going down things, a change of direction, to climbing up something was in order. Time to test out the toe after a five month recovery from injury.
Paragliding near Baños
We met our guide in town and followed him down to the taxi rank where he haggled a fare to take us to the wall, about five minutes out of town. At this point I should mention his name but all I caught from his heavily accented drawl was “My nam ish Brrrr…”. He was the most sinewy guy I’ve ever seen. Not a gram of fat with arms about as thick as my wrists, but he looked like he was capable of tearing the limbs from a fully grown man if he felt like it. He had the typical high Andean cheekbones and dark, weathered skin and a glint in his eyes that was both reassuring and disconcerting all at the same time.
My girlfriend and I gave each other a puzzled look that has been elicited more than once on the great continent of South America: ‘WTF?’
We walked down from the road to the wall which, for the geologists among you, is columnous basalt. A very dark, and exceptionally (ridiculously) smooth rock formed of hundreds of hexagonal spires all joined together. It was quite a sight in itself, especially when coupled with the steep surrounding hills and the raging river (whose name means ‘Torrential Waters’ in English) which was about 50m deeper into the canyon than us.
Our guide laid out the rope and started to tie one end to a gear loop on his harness so I asked him if he wanted me to belay (use the rope to catch him if he falls) while he put in the route.
“This is my office” he replied smiling and shaking his head, the glint in his eye catching in the morning sun. He then changed footwear from his worn out sandals, to what can best be described as a pair of worn out sneakers, and took off up the wall. My girlfriend and I gave each other a puzzled look that has been elicited more than once on the great continent of South America: ‘WTF?’
Starting the first climb
I’m no expert, but I’m fairly confident that this could be called a ‘novel approach’ to safety, and I’m not sure free-soloing (climbing with no ropes above a safe height) would be widely practiced by many guides with new clients. No gear placement later, he was self-rappelling (only usually done out of absolute necessity) down on a silver belay device (which helps to catch the rope of a falling climber) that had just about shed all evidence that it used to be blue. Our turn.
The climbing was tough going, especially for such rookies. The rock was smooth and the holds were limited. I did feel a bit sheepish pulling on my brand new climbing shoes and struggling up what our guide has likely done with his eyes closed. He was very encouraging though, making sure that having me on belay didn’t stop him from using both hands to show me what to do (the belayer should always have at least one hand on the rope!). I made it up without a fall so didn’t get the chance to test out the no hands approach. My girlfriend then made it look easy while I did a terrible job of looking like I was pleased about her good effort
Our guide didn't let protocol get in the way of the shot!
We migrated down the wall a little to the next spot, where our guide looked more excited than a narcissist with a mirror. This time he didn't even opt for his climbing shoes. He climbed up, with no safety points, in a worn out pair of sandals that were barely suitable for walking around town. I couldn't help but think about what to do if he fell and painted one of the rocks below with the contents of his head.
Fortunately there were no problems and I was up to climb again. This time I was a bit more tired and a little more nervous as the amount of safety no-no's piled up. And then, half way up, the worst happened and I slipped. I couldn't hold on any more. As I dropped, I had time to give a quick thought as to whether I'd be caught, or if this was the end... I came to a hard halt. The worn out rope didn't have much bounce left in it, but my guide did catch me. Once again taking both hands off the rope to show me what I did wrong.
Resting on a ledge. If you look closely you can see the guide with his hands wrapped around his knees
Funnily enough, often in climbing you need to fall to get the 'that wasn't so bad' confidence booster. I finished the route without mishap. And now it was time for the pièce de résistance. As our trusty guide was lowering me off the wall, he took both hands off the rope (again) and said "make the Spiderman!" putting both arms out wide and cocked his wrists like the superhero.
"Are you sure?" I quizzed, the apprehension creeping into my voice.
"Yeah, you don't worry" he shouted, "I make Spiderman with all my clients" as he pointed his iPhone at me for the photo. And so, 8 meters off the ground, I slowly leaned back in my harness until my ankles were above the hips, gently reached out and cocked my wrist at the camera. The smile belies the fear.
Spiderman!
Needless to say, after this we were hooked and climbed our way through Colombia, Mexico and now BC, Canada. Stay tuned for more backpacking madness!
For a rundown of one of the craziest markets I've ever seen, check out my article The World's Craziest Market (WARNING - GRAPHIC CONTENT).
For some more explanation of the climbing jargon, see 
Thanks for reading!