MAGAN'S WORLD:Manchán Magan on a unique train trip.
I've occasionally resorted to hanging from teh side of trainsw in India when they are very crowded, but only in Ecuador do people willingly ride on the roof when the carriages are empty. Foreigners of course - no local would be foolish enough to pay €15 for a ticket and not even sit in the seat provided.
I don't know how the tradition of riding on the roof of trains in Ecuador started. It was possibly to get a view of the Chimborazo volcano, which soars above all the others in the "Avenue of the Volcanoes", but more likely it was to experience the plunging switchbacks of the El Nariz del Diablo (the Devil's Nose) section of track, where the train zigzags perilously up a near-vertical rock face, from 1,800m to 2,600m.
The journey goes from cool highlands through cloud forest and down into fetid jungle, passing by volcanic cones, high-altitude grassland meadows, ancient pre-Columbian ruins and whole mountainsides of fields and terraces cultivated by sombrero- and poncho-attired indigenous people.
I intended this column to be about the wonders of the journey, but having just read a description of it online, I'm less certain. Perhaps people today demand more than it can offer.
"Rode the El Diablo this morning and my ass is still sore," wrote one young traveller. "We had locals running over the tops of the caboose selling the cheapest empanadas ever - pretty sweet deal except for the lack of a backrest. Ugh. The guidebook promised the thrill of a lifetime . . . Thrilling? Well, kind of, but death defying?!?! NO WAY. They started building it in 1899, then hit a slight snag - a steep slope of solid Andean rock, 'no less intimidating than the devil's nose itself', according to the idiots at Lonely Planet. (Those guys can go suck it.)
"So anyway, they invented switchbacks - it was an incredible feat of engineering, yadda yadda yadda. Oh, and the best part? You get to ride on top of the frickin' train! Did I mention my ass is sore? What the L-Planet geeks failed to mention was it takes seven long hours in the hot equatorial sun - not only was my ass crying, but my face and lips were wind-chapped, and even my scalp was totally fried. Sunburn central.
"And, what's worse, it's a tourist trap! It was like going all the way to the top of a rollercoaster only to have the ride end there. It was more of a let-down than the guy in 6th grade who told me his mom was a hooker - turns out she was just a slut. The only Nariz Del Diablo that I saw was my sun-fried nose in the mirror. I hate you, Lonely Planet. You owe me seven hours and $18. Parts of it were OK, I suppose - like eating banoffi until you vomit, you know?"
After reading that, I felt my own eagerness might have been misplaced. His world-weariness had chastened me, yet I've decided not to allow his cynicism to extinguish my enthusiasm for a journey I consider truly remarkable.
Maybe I'm naive or easily pleased, but I certainly enjoyed it. The train ride wouldn't exist any more if it weren't for tourists, because in 1998 El Niño wiped out much of the Andean rail network and El Nariz del Diablo was reinstated largely due to tourist income. Taking the trip will help ensure it survives. You may have to share the roof with people like our friend above, but if you can tune him out I promise a trip of a lifetime.
A tip: If you take the journey northwards you'll avoid the tourists - it'll just be you and whatever campesino farmers are bringing to market.