After a snug night in my hostal, insulated from the freezing mountain temperatures and sharp Andean winds by several layers of thick blankets, I set out early to hike the 12km to Chugchilan. You can't feel that intrepid when you realise this footpath is the everyday route for villagers (pic).
It was half seven in the morning as I skirted the crater rim, with Cotopaxi in sharp morning-sun relief in the distance (pic).
I encountered many friendly locals en route going about their daily business (pic). The brief and amiable Spanish conversations covered basic information such as where I was walking to, which country I was from, and which football team I support...
...This being important, of course. For, in the small village of Guayama, the local team were winning 2-1 against some local rivals (whose team name I couldn't get despite several repetitions). The standard was a bit kick-and-rush, but on a bumpy pitch 12000 feet up in the Andes (pic), it's admirable that there's any footy at all. There was a festive atmosphere, with the whole village watching, stalls selling food and drink, and everyone ready to chat.
After Guayama's Match of the Day, I walked on down into a deep canyon with epic views (pic) and up the other side to the village of Chugchilan, where I found a lovely hostel and enjoyed fish and chips from the Sunday market for 40p.
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