Over Ecuador on a Wing and a Prayer

A couple of years ago I traveled to Ecuador to see the Amazon Rainforest and the Galapagos Islands. The trip was a non-stop adventure filled with natural wonder and amazing people. Throughout the journey I discovered why it's called a "once-in-a-lifetime" experience. It's not because of expense, time or distance. It is called "once-in-a-lifetime" because air travel in Ecuador is so unbelievably scary that once is enough!

Ecuador's capital is Quito, a bustling urban landscape nestled on the side of a volcano at 9,300 feet above sea level. It occupies a mere 112 square miles, a relatively tiny patch considering the Andes mountain range is over 4,400 miles long and 300 miles wide. The average height of the peaks is 13,000 feet. In air travel terms, landing in Quito is a miraculous feat of physics and engineering.

My arrival into Ecuador's capital was fairly uneventful. We arrived on a major airline in a manner that did nothing to shake the senses. It was a beautiful descent that afforded views of the Andes and glimpses of snow capped stratovolcanoes like Cotopaxi, at 19,388 feet, and Pichincha at 15,728 feet. It was breathtaking.

After a few days exploring Quito, our group headed to the airport for a flight back over the Andes into eastern Ecuador. This leg would loft us out of Quito, trace the tips of the Andes and tuck in at the eastern frontrange to land in Coca. The flight would take about 45 minutes, not very remarkable unless you consider that within that time you go from 9,300 feet, try to avoid the Andes and then land at 803 feet at a tiny local airport. When the plane lands at Coca, you realize that once again you and your fellow travelers have defied rational physics.

Now navigating the Amazon has its own challenges but at least they are all on the ground. After two weeks in the rainforest it was back to Coca for another mid-air duel with the mountains. Although the Coca airport is small it is not in the shadow of ominous summits. Take off from here is into wide open skies.

As I sat in the plane at Coca, I began to notice a little local habit. The Ecuadorian woman next to me began praying quietly and crossing herself. As I looked around the small plane I realized that most passengers were doing the same. Did they know something I didn't? I would soon find out.

The plane took off from Coca and flight attendants were quick to hand out snacks and start a drink service. All this took place while the plane ascended at a startling degree. An elderly couple opted to use the restroom even though we'd only been flying for about fifteen minutes. At this point we must have hit peak altitude and leveled off, for about three seconds.

Our descent began. The drink service became a frenzied attempt to keep carts from barreling through the aisle. The elderly couple began falling back to their seats frantically. The woman next to me started the crossing again. For a moment I thought something was seriously wrong.

Then, I realized this was flying in Ecuador. Our descent was a screeching, stomach challenging endeavor from peak altitude to the little patch of tarmac on the side of a volcano in Quito. The adrenaline filled flight was the alternative to trekking the Andes and the accepted way to get from A to B.

The mass prayers were apparently answered and we touched down safely in Quito. There was an audible sigh of relief as the tires hit the runway. Visibly shaken, our group gathered belongings and waited patiently for the plane's doors to open and for the experience to become history. Ahead lay two weeks in the Galapagos and no immediate rides over the Andes.

After boating around the Galapagos, it was back to Quito to prepare for our departure to the United States. The trip had been a wonderful experience but we were all agreed it was time to go home.

We checked our bags and boarded. The spacious mass of the aircraft was a comforting sight compared to the tiny mountain hoppers in which we'd twice crossed the Andes. Cheerfully we sat chatting while baggage was loaded and the flight was prepared for take off. In our enthusiasm we barely noticed that nothing was happening. We'd sat on board for nearly an hour with no announcements. Then a voice announced that the plane was being serviced for a leak. In other words repairs were being performed with passengers on board.

I had a window seat with a view of the luggage handling and I noticed that bags were now being offloaded. I thought at least we're not taking this leaky plane over the Andes. Then the voice was back over the loudspeaker. The leak was fixed but now the crew was worried about a mean downdraft from the mountains. The bags were being removed not for transfer to another plane. They were shedding weight so we could clear the Andes.

Almost immediately a wave of crossing began. Out of my window I watched bags go down the conveyor and sit on the tarmac. A group of men discussed each one with lots of hand waving and pointing. A baggage handler stood with a duffle in one hand waiting for instruction. On or off? Put it back or...hey, that's my bag! Leave it! Leave it! I wanted to shout out the window. If our success at clearing the Andes meant I'd be safe at home before my luggage I was all for it! Just leave it!

One of the men on the tarmac signed to close up the plane and I watched my duffle drive away in the little luggage carrier. The captain announced that it was all systems go for take off so sit down and buckle up. The plane backed away from the terminal and lined up for our turn to challenge the ominous mountain winds. We started accelerating, passengers crossing fervently.

The plane's nose lifted and we began our ascent with held breath. As the plane leveled out high above the Andes Ecuador slowly faded below the jagged snowcapped peaks. We were heading north at a comfortable cruising altitude in cushy seats. The crossing ceased and passengers slowly grew confident that our journey would be calm and quiet.

Our final destination was Logan International which we reached hours after our original ETA. After landing I called my brother's cell phone to let him know we had finally landed. He had been circling the airport for hours. I met him at the curb sans luggage and jumped in. "Where are your bags?" he asked. I told him the truth: that I didn't know and I didn't care. I was just glad to be home.