My Ecuador Adventure: From the Andes to the Galápagos and Into the Amazon
- Ian Scott
- 4 days ago
- 10 min read
Some journeys introduce you to another country, and others make you look at the world differently.
My adventure through Ecuador did both.
It began among the colonial plazas and mountain scenery of Quito, continued through the colorful markets of the Andes, and carried me into the extraordinary wildlife sanctuary of the Galápagos Islands. Then, just when the journey appeared to have delivered every possible variety of adventure, I traveled to the Amazon Basin.
This Quito and Galápagos tour offered far more than celebrated landmarks. Along the way, I stood between two hemispheres, bought more artwork than I have walls at home, swam face-to-face with sea lions, watched hammerhead sharks pass beneath me, and drank my morning coffee as parrots erupted from the rainforest canopy.
Yet my strongest memories are not only of the places I visited. They are of the people I met and the experiences our group shared.
An Evening in Quito
Quito immediately captured my imagination.
The Ecuadorian capital rests in the Andes, surrounded by mountains and volcanoes. Its historic center is a magnificent collection of cobblestone streets, grand plazas, monasteries, and richly decorated churches.
One evening, my wife and I joined a group of travelers and had dinner at a small restaurant called Somos, just a 5-minute walk from our hotel.
Inside, the dining room was warm and welcoming, with painted walls, wooden beams, and local artwork displayed in every corner.
We decided to order several Ecuadorian dishes and share them around the table. There was locro de papa, a comforting potato-and-cheese soup served with avocado; crisp empanadas; roasted meats; corn; plantains; and llapingachos, cheese-filled potato patties that quickly became a group favorite.
One traveler took a second helping and announced, “I came to Ecuador for the Galápagos, but I may stay for the potatoes.”
That set the tone for the evening.
We talked about why each had chosen this program, where our travels had taken us, and what we were most looking forward to experiencing. A few people had arrived knowing one another, while others had joined independently. By dessert, everyone was passing plates, exchanging stories, and laughing like old friends.
After dinner, we viewed the vibrant paintings of Andean villages, volcanoes, local people, and brilliantly colored market scenes that adorned the restaurant walls. I bought a painting. Then I saw another that perfectly captured Quito’s rooftops beneath the mountains.
My wife looked at me and asked, “Where exactly are you planning to hang these?”
I had no answer.
Standing Between Two Hemispheres
The next day brought one of Ecuador’s most famous experiences: the Middle of the World.
Our group gathered around the marked Equatorial line, taking turns standing with one foot in the Northern Hemisphere and the other in the Southern Hemisphere.
Within minutes, normally sensible adults were attempting increasingly elaborate photographs. One traveler placed her passport on the north side and her sunglasses on the south. Another stretched across the line while insisting that half of him was experiencing a different season.
“I’m finally in two places at once,” someone declared.
We explored the exhibits and watched demonstrations associated with the Equator. Our guide carefully explained which observations represented genuine geography and which belonged more to the entertaining traditions surrounding a visit to the line.
What fascinated me most was not a dramatic physical transformation but the geographical reality that a few steps could move us from north to south.
Our group kept crossing back and forth simply because we could.
At a nearby museum, the atmosphere changed when we encountered an Amazonian tsantsa, commonly described as a shrunken head.
It was nearly the size of a tennis ball.
The scale was astonishing, but our guide encouraged us to view it with respect rather than merely as a curiosity. This had once been part of a human being and was connected to ceremonial practices with a complicated cultural history.
Several of us stood silently before it.
One fellow traveler said, “I have seen photographs of these, but you cannot understand the size until you are standing in front of one.”
Another replied, “It is fascinating, but also deeply unsettling.”
The conversation continued over lunch. That became a recurring part of our Ecuador adventure: seeing something remarkable and then discussing it together, with each traveler bringing a different perspective.
A Riot of Color at Otavalo Market
Otavalo Market is a celebration of color.
Rows of stalls overflowed with woven tapestries, embroidered clothing, scarves, blankets, bags, jewelry, and carved wooden figures. Reds, blues, oranges, greens, and yellows competed for our attention at every turn.
Our group entered the market together, but within minutes everyone had been drawn toward a different stall.
One traveler began examining a stack of intricately woven table runners. Another tried on a traditional hat. Someone else became involved in a cheerful negotiation over three blankets and a brightly embroidered bag.
The tapestries were irresistible.
I found one depicting Andean ladies and held it up for the group’s approval.
“It is beautiful,” one traveler said.
Soon, our shopping expedition became a group consultation. We compared patterns, helped one another select gifts, and tried to determine which tapestries would fit into our luggage.
One woman bought matching woven bags for each of her granddaughters. Another traveler selected a brilliant blue wall hanging, then spent the next twenty minutes wondering whether she should have purchased the red one instead.
We eventually returned to the motorcoach carrying enough brightly colored fabric to redecorate a small hotel.
As everyone displayed their purchases, one traveler summarized the experience perfectly:
“I didn’t buy souvenirs. I bought an entirely new color scheme.”
A German Traveler Who Chose to Live Differently
Our Ecuador adventure shifted dramatically when we boarded the Galápagos Legend and sailed into one of the world’s greatest wildlife sanctuaries.
One evening aboard, I began talking with a German college professor named Bernard. He had spent most of his career in corporate management education and had recently made a decision that surprised nearly everyone he knew.
He had taken a one-year sabbatical.
“I spent more than twenty years arranging my life around classes,” he told me. “For one year, I decided to arrange education around my life.”
His plan was not to rush from country to country collecting passport stamps. He wanted to travel slowly, meet people and give himself time to understand each place.
Ecuador was one stop in a year devoted to travel, reflection and living differently.
As we talked, the conversation moved from travel to careers, family and the strange way people postpone their dreams while waiting for the perfect time.
I asked Bernard whether leaving work for a year had frightened him.
“Of course,” he replied. “But I was more frightened that I would reach retirement and discover I had saved all my living for later.”
That comment stayed with me throughout the journey.
Becoming David Attenborough or a National Geographic film crew
The Galápagos has a way of making everyone feel like a wildlife presenter.
Every landing brought another extraordinary scene: blue-footed boobies standing beside the trail, magnificent frigatebirds displaying their brilliant red throat pouches, marine iguanas warming themselves on black volcanic rocks and sea lions sleeping wherever they pleased.
The animals appeared almost completely unconcerned by our presence.
I found myself quietly narrating scenes in my best David Attenborough voice.
Our naturalist guides brought the islands to life. They explained how isolation, volcanic activity and ocean currents shaped the Galápagos, creating ecosystems unlike anywhere else on Earth.
Even after decades of travel, it is difficult not to be impressed by a place where wildlife dictates the pace and human visitors are clearly the guests.
Face-to-Face With a Sea Lion
During one snorkeling excursion, I floated near a rocky shoreline when a young sea lion appeared from the blue.
It swam directly toward me.
For a moment, we were face-to-face. Its eyes were wide, dark, and intensely curious. Then it twisted, rolled beneath me, and shot away before returning from another direction.
I tried to turn quickly enough to follow it, but the sea lion moved with effortless speed while I felt like a piece of luggage floating in the water.
Another sea lion joined it.
They circled me, dove beneath our fins and surfaced close enough for me to hear them breathe. I never chased or reached toward them; I simply remained still and allowed them to decide how close they wished to come.
Then one particularly curious pup noticed my waterproof camera.
Before I understood what was happening, it gently took the camera housing into its mouth.
From behind me, I heard someone shout through a snorkel, “It’s eating your camera!” A moment later, the pup released it and darted away.
The camera was unharmed, but the photographs were extraordinary for all the wrong reasons. Instead of sweeping underwater scenery, I had captured whiskers, teeth, a pink tongue, and several remarkably detailed images of the inside of a sea lion’s mouth.
Back aboard the ship, the photographs became the evening’s entertainment.
One traveler studied them carefully and said, “These may be the most original Galápagos photographs any of us takes.”
The Shadows Beneath Us
Another exhilarating moment came during a guided snorkel. The water was clear, but beneath us it darkened rapidly into the deeper blue. Our naturalist suddenly pointed below.
For a moment, I saw only shadows.
Then the unmistakable shape appeared: a wide, flattened head followed by the smooth outline of a shark.
A hammerhead.
Then another emerged behind it.
They moved beneath us with extraordinary calm, neither rushing nor appearing interested in our presence. Their silhouettes seemed almost prehistoric.
My heart was pounding loudly enough that I was convinced the entire group could hear it through the water.
One traveler later admitted, “I thought seeing sharks would make me panic. Instead, I felt completely humbled.”
That was exactly how it felt.
For several moments, I imagined myself narrating another nature documentary. In reality, I was too astonished to form a coherent sentence.
When we climbed back aboard, everyone began talking at once.
“Did you see how close the second one came?”
“How many were there?”
“Was anyone else terrified and thrilled at the same time?”
It was one of those rare travel experiences that becomes part of a group’s identity. For the remainder of the program, we were no longer simply fellow passengers.
We were the people who had swum above hammerhead sharks together.
More Stars Than Seemed Possible
The Galápagos nights were nearly as memorable as the days.
One evening, my wife and I sat at the ship’s bar with cool drinks while the vessel moved quietly through the darkness.
Far from the lights of a major city, the sky seemed impossibly crowded with stars. The Milky Way stretched above the ship, and the constellations appeared sharp and vivid against the darkness.
I have watched night skies in remote corners of the world, but the stars above the Galápagos possessed a remarkable clarity.
For a while, we simply sat without speaking.
Bernard eventually joined us, followed by several members of our group. Someone tried to identify the constellations. Another traveler confidently pointed out a planet before admitting that it might have been an aircraft.
My wife looked upward and said, “How many nights do we spend indoors without remembering that all of this is above us?”
No one had a good answer.
We raised our glasses to the islands, the stars and the unexpected pleasure of sharing a quiet evening at sea.
Morning Coffee in the Amazon basin
Those continuing on the optional Amazon basin extension exchanged the open Pacific for an entirely different world.
We traveled by motorized canoe along the Arajuno River as dense vegetation closed around us. The rainforest seemed alive in every direction, buzzing, rustling, calling, and moving.
Early one morning, I carried a cup of coffee outside and found another traveler already seated near the edge of the lodge.
We watched mist hang above the forest as the sky slowly brightened.
Then the parrots began to leave their roosts.
A few flashes of green and red appeared above the trees. Moments later, groups of brilliantly colored birds flew across the canopy and disappeared into the forest.
Neither of us spoke until the last group had passed.
My companion finally lifted her coffee and said, “This may be the best breakfast entertainment I have ever seen.”
There were no engines, phones, or city sounds, only birds, distant water, and the awakening rainforest.
Learning From a Kichwa Community
Our visit with members of a local Kichwa community became one of the most meaningful experiences of the Amazon extension.
They welcomed us and shared aspects of daily life, explaining how families use the forest for food, medicine, construction, and transportation. We learned that knowledge of plants and seasons is not simply traditional information; it remains essential to life in the rainforest.
Our hosts demonstrated local techniques and invited us to participate. Some members of our group proved considerably more capable than others.
One traveler attempted to use a traditional blowgun and missed the target so completely that our guide looked behind us to determine where the dart had gone.
The laughter required no translation.
Then came the chocolate.
We learned how locally grown cacao was prepared, roasted, and transformed. The process bore little resemblance to opening a supermarket wrapper.
When we finally tasted the homemade chocolate, the group became unusually quiet.
It was rich, intense, and slightly rustic, with the unmistakable character of locally grown cacao prepared by hand.
One traveler took another taste and said, “This has completely ruined ordinary chocolate for me.”
Another immediately asked whether it was available by the pound.
The chocolate was memorable, but the conversation mattered more. We asked about family life, education, farming, and the challenges of maintaining cultural traditions while engaging with the modern economy.
Our hosts’ generosity reminded us that cultural interaction is not about observing people as part of an attraction. It is about listening, asking respectful questions, and recognizing the knowledge within another way of life.
The Journey That Followed Me Home
When I think about Treasures of Ecuador: From the Andes to the Galápagos, I remember its famous sights.
I remember colonial Quito, the Equator, the riot of color at Otavalo Market and the landscapes of the Galápagos. I remember sea lions, hammerhead sharks, giant tortoises, parrots and the deep green immensity of the Amazon basin.
But I also remember the conversations.
I remember the traveler who came for the Galápagos but considered staying for the potatoes. I remember our group helping one another choose tapestries in Otavalo. I remember Bernard explaining why he had taken a year away from his career to rediscover how he wanted to live.
I remember my wife and me sitting beneath a sky filled with more stars than seemed possible.
I remember the collection of artwork I attempted to carry home, despite having no clear plan for where any of it would go.
And I remember how people who had begun the journey as fellow travelers gradually became companions in a shared adventure.
That is what Ecuador gave us: not just extraordinary destinations, but moments that demanded to be discussed, laughed about, and remembered together.
The paintings may eventually find walls. The tapestries will become gifts. The photographs, including several excellent views of a sea lion’s mouth, will be shared for years.
But the real treasures of Ecuador are the stories we brought home.