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Bus travel in the Andes
Stepping onto a bus at the beginning of a journey in the Ecuadorian Andes can be an unnerving experience. Maybe it’s the sight of those shiny, bald tyres which look as if they haven’t seen tread since the driver was last in short trousers. Or maybe it’s the comprehensive collection of religious imagery decorating the driver’s cab, leaving one to contemplate prayer as the best means of ensuring a safe trip. On the other hand, it could simply be the fact that the bus is packed to suffocation point. For you can bet your last banana pancake that, on board there will be enough passengers, luggage and livestock to fill your average super-tanker. Overcrowded, it seems, is a word not included in the Andean vocabulary.
As the bus heads off and you settle down into your 10 sq cm of available space, thoughts may turn to the road. In the Andean backwoods roads tend to range from badly pot-holed dirt tracks, barely wide enough for two buses to pass, to badly pot-holed dirt tracks, barely wide enough for two anorexic llamas to stand shoulder-to-shoulder without one of them falling off the side.
Such a prevalence of potholes does have its compensations, though. It makes for some amusing near head-on collisions as your driver veers back and forth across the carriageway in an attempt to avoid them. In places, the pot holes join up, so that the road becomes one giant pot hole with the driver veering wildly from one side to the other in a desperate attempt to avoid hitting the few remaining bits of original road that stick up like stalagmites, But pot holes are only a minor distraction. Rather more worrying are the crosses that all-too frequently appear by the side of the road. These are placed by the relatives of those who have perished in road accidents at the precise spot where the vehicle plunged over the side. This means that they can serve as some macabre point-scoring system to indicate the degree of difficulty of any particular bend. On the most dangerous bends, there may be so many that they form a makeshift crash barrier, preventing others from suffering the same fate.
Guiding you along these thin strips of mountain roads which coil their way through the Andes are people you will come to fear and respect – the drivers. At times you may be convinced that many of these drivers are members of a strange religious cult whose sole aim is to wipe out the entire travelling public. What other explanation could there be for hurtling at breakneck speed along roads that would make a tortoise slow down?
Some drivers manage to combine their formula one racing skills with a nice line in sadistic humour. There you’ll be, crawling along behind an excruciatingly slow-moving farm vehicle on a road as straight as a pool cue. Then, as you approach the first bend for miles, the driver will suddenly pull out to overtake. Just as suddenly, he pulls back in, comfortably missing the onrushing 10-ton truck by, oh, at least 2 mm. You have to laugh.
Though you will often curse the driver’s apparent disregard for your well-being, you’ll also have occasion to sing his praises. For when the bus breaks down (as it invariably does), he can display his breathtaking mechanical genius. More often than not, this will happen in the middle of the night, far from the nearest dwelling, with the temperature outside well below zero. The engine has blown up, the wheels fallen off and the driver disappears into a cloud of black smoke wielding nothing more than a metal pipe, an old cigarette packet and a length of string. Miraculously, an hour later, you’re on your way once more. Uncanny. But it’s not all discomfort and near-death experiences. The intimacy of bus travel makes for some interesting encounters and, if your Spanish is up to it, can prove the beginning of many a beautiful friendship. Buses can also be a unique insight into Andean life. 
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