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Message: <blockquote data-quote="JWN Andrewes" data-source="post: 1657485" data-attributes="member: 7131">28th November 1989A bus out of Quito (Black-tailed Trainbearer, Rufous-collared Sparrow, Great Thrush) a pass through the Andes (I have the word “Cayambe” scribbled in the margin, I must check if this is indeed the name of the pass). Vermillion Flycatcher was a roadside bird here, and Brown-bellied Swallow, Plain-coloured Seedeater and Paramo Pipit. Destination was the highest waterfall in Ecuador, at San Rafael. Managed a spot of spotting before the real adventure began, with new east slope birds hitting the list as we made our leisurely way to the viewpoint for the falls, where we hoped to camp, crossing a dry stony riverbed along the way, nothing but a tiny trickle making its way along it. Pale-tailed Barbthroat, White-tipped Swifts, a party of 10 Green (now Inca?) Jays and a Lemon-browed Flycatcher being pick of the bunch (ie lifers). We found a nice bare flat patch of ground that looked eminently suitable to rig up some sort of bivouac out of the fly-sheets we’d been slinging our hammocks under when up in the cloud forest a few weeks previously, and then it started raining. Good oh, under cover we get then, sorted. This was when things started to go a bit wrong. Bit by bit our bivouacs were filling with water, and we discovered the reason our chosen campsite was so level and clear of plants. It was a dried up pond. So we bundled all our stuff back into rucksacks, twice as heavy now everything was sopping wet, and set off. There had been some buildings back at the road where the bus had dropped us off, and this was now our target destination before it got dark. It was now absolutely chucking it down, proper tropical stair rods, and that dry river bed was now, well, less dry. As we stood and contemplated the foaming, bouncing, tumult it had become we could hear stones within it grinding along the river bed. Oh, ‘eck. Nothing for it though, than for the four of us to link arms and gingerly inch our way across it, all hundred plus feet of mad torrent, with stones bumping off our shins and ankles. Thank god it wasn’t deep, I quake at the thought of it now, fearful risky but hey, all’s well that ends well. The buildings at the road were only half built, dwellings for future workers at some plant that was being built, so far as we could gather from the site caretaker who took pity on us (we must have been a sorry sight) and let us camp in one of the more complete houses for a couple of nights, gratis. What a nice chap. Hopefully the birding tomorrow will make up for things….James</blockquote>

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