Things I've done for the first time

This is a list of things that I've done for the first time during 2014. I thought it would be interesting to keep a little list (although it turned into a long list) of 'firsts'. It's by no means everything, but I think I have the main ones sorted.

1. I retired

It was my 60th birthday in July 2013 and I'd decided a few years back that I should retire at 60 if I could afford to. I thought I could afford to, but I wasn't dead sure and it would have been easy to have said I'll do another year, save another £10,000, just make sure.

I didn't, and I'm pleased that I didn't. I've had enough money and should have enough to see me out, so I did the best thing and asked for early retirement back in June. Somewhat annoyingly, the company offered a voluntary redundancy scheme just a month before my retirement date and I bet I would have qualified. That would have added maybe £75,000 to my pot, but it's no use beating yourself up for decisions that might have been. I made the best decision I could at the time, based on the knowledge I had.

I was a little apprehensive about retirement. I wasn't worried about boredom, but I was concerned about stimulation and missing work colleagues, relationships/friendships and gossip (the social side of work, if you like).

Retirement has been great; I've had the chance to do lots of new things and I've never sat down and thought: "what am I going to do now?" It's been quite the reverse in fact. I've not had time to do lots of the things I thought I'd do - without the dead time of commuting, I'm reading less and writing less.

Last-day-in-the-office selfie - only me left 

2. I became a school governor

I said that when I retired I'd volunteer for a number of things. Life has been pretty good to me, so I thought I should put something back. I read that there was a shortage of people willing to become school governors, I thought that might utilise some of the skills I used in my job, so I signed up for a website called SGOSS, which is an abbreviation for something, and aims to link volunteers with vacancies. In the meantime, I'd mentioned it to my friend Pauline Coakley, who is chair of governors at the Duke of Bedford School in Thorney, and it turned out there was a vacancy there.

So I became a governor in April and it's been interesting. It's good to be involved with the school again, having had no contact since our children left, and I do feel that I'm doing something useful. There's very little as important as education.

The school got a rating of "good" in its Ofsted inspection in April, our head teacher resigned in June, we recruited a new head in October, I became vice-chair and now I'm involved with projects to set up a new website and to look at provision of school meals. So it's been quite a busy eight months and with a new head in place from January and a deputy head to appoint in spring, it looks as if it will stay that way. I’ve also met lots of new people from the village.

3. I used snowshoes

At the start of the year, Sam and Lucy were living in Villaret sur la Rosiere, near Bourg-saint-Maurice in the French Alps in order to do a full ski season. We'd gone down with them in December 2013 to help carry their gear and made several other trips to spend time with them.

Because Margaret doesn't ski (and doesn't want to learn) we skied for a few days and looked for other things to do on others. She was quite keen on snowshoeing, Sam and Lucy had reconnoitered a route and so we set off to walk through the snow from St Foy to Le Monal, a small village which is uninhabited in winter. It was a lovely, sunny day, the views were great and the climbs not too severe.

Walking on modern snowshoes is very easy, you just need to remember to walk with your legs a little further apart so you don't step on your own shoes. You also need to keep fairly close to the trodden path, move off into soft snow and the relatively small snowshoes they use here won't stop you sinking in.

In Le Monal, we were able to sit in the snow and bask in the sun, while enjoying some magnificent views of the north side of Mont Pourri. We liked St Foy so much we're going back this January.

Le Monal in January.

4. I raised ornamental grass from seed

This doesn't sound much of a first, but it was quite demanding. I grew Angel Hair (stipa tenuissima) and Blue Grass (leymus arenarius) partly because Margaret wanted to convert our patio to gravel with assorted pots/planters and partly because were had agreed to run the plant stall at the church flower festival and I needed some plants to sell. I thought the Angel Hair would go down a bomb, but it was tricky to shift. Lots of people already had it in their garden and said it seeded everywhere. Considering how tricky they were for me to germinate it, I found that hard to take.

The Blue Grass was the hard one to germinate. It was in and out of the fridge, in and out of a plastic bag, in the sun, in the shade and I even took it on holiday to France because I thought it might die if I left it unattended for a week.

Having babies is easier (for me, not Margaret).

5. I skied in La Plagne, took the Vanoise Express

I skied a lot this year and there were lots of firsts in terms of new runs (Reynard will forever be etched in my memory) but I did do a couple of bigger firsts. Sam and I skied across to La Plagne from Les Arcs, taking the massive cable car that links the two resorts. It’s called the Vanoise Express; the cars are double-deckers and can carry over 100 people and it gets you across pretty quickly. The cables stretch 1,800 metres and it rides 400 metres (1,200ft) above the valley floor. I went back to La Plagne several times in the spring, sadly it was later in the season when the weather was quite warm and the snow was not very good.

On the Vanoise Express.

6. I drunk Genepi and Green Chartreuse

Genepi is a sweet, alcoholic nectar of the gods. I love it. Green Chartreuse has 60 herbs infused, but it's the high level of alcohol that does it. After a hard day's skiing it can kick-start your evening. It also revived Tim Dawkins, Davina's boyfriend, restoring his voice after three children's parties in one day.

Both drinks are essentially alcohol, sugar syrup and a few herbs. Once I( get my still sorted (a first for 2015) I’ll be aiming to recreate these great tastes of the French Alps.

7. I got an allotment

When Sam and Lucy came back to England following their six months in France, they were planning to live with us for a while to allow them to find new jobs outside London. I thought it would be a good idea for Lucy to have an allotment to cultivate, otherwise she'd be digging up my lawn to plant beetroot. As it happened, they went straight to Jersey and I'm left alone with the biggest allotment in Thorney!

I have enjoyed working the plot and I’ve got half of it pretty much dug over. I’ve spent about £1,000 on shed, weedkiller, wood, plants, compost, bark and manure and so far I’ve had about 2kg or onions, all the courgettes and runner beans we could eat, a barrow-load of apples and some leeks.

Plenty of digging required when this was taken.

8. I used a rotovator

See above! I bought a rotovator to help with the digging and when that proved useless, I bought a bigger one. Here's some advice, don't buy a rotovator until you have tried digging with a fork. It's the best way and also good exercise.

Rotovators chop up the weeds so you end up with three times as much bindweed as when you started; they are stolen or they break down! Having said that, if you had a large plot of weed-free, previously dug loam, they are great for creating a fine seed bed.

9. I swam in Lake Annecy off a pedalo

About 30 years ago, I swam in the Thunersee at Interlaken in Switzerland. It was a hot June day and the water was absolutely bloody freezing! I resolved never to take a dip in an Alpine lake ever again.

Well, in July (after being assured by Sam and Lucy that the water was like a warm bath) I broke that rule and had a swim in Lake Annecy. I was back in France to help bring their stuff back to the UK and we had a trip to Annecy for the day. The lake is huge, it is warm and you can hire a pedalo for an hour or swim from a beach. The bed of the lake shelves very gently, so you can still stand up even 100 metres from the shore, so a pedalo saves you wading out for ages.

If I was making an argument that the quality of life is so much better in France than in England, I’d take my opposing protagonist for a swim in Lake Annecy.

10. I walked on a volcano

The next four firsts are all connected with another first - I visited Ecuador. I wasn’t planning to visit Ecuador, but Tom and Lucy announced they were getting married and Margaret and I, together with my sister, flew across for the wedding.

There were lots of firsts in Ecuador, including visiting Ecuador, but the volcanoes really made an impression on me. Who isn’t fascinated by a volcano? There are lots of them in Ecuador including one (Tungarahua) which is currently erupting. Cotopaxi is only a few miles from the capital Quito and is a classic strato-volcano; if you asked a child to draw a picture of a volcano, they would draw Cotopaxi.

We were able to visit on a clear day when the whole of the mountain was visible and got up to about 4500m. We would have reached the snow line, but there was a fierce wind which was whipping up ash and sharp cinders and blasting them straight into our faces. See my blog: http://ericsdailydiary.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/ecuador-cotopaxi.html

If you asked a child to draw a picture of a volcano, they would draw Cotopaxi

11. I crossed the equator

When I was a young boy, many of the heroes presented to me were explorers - Shackleton, Scott. Hillary ... the world still seemed to have undiscovered places and if you wanted to get to America, Australia or even France, you went by ship. Cheap jet travel hadn’t shrunk the Earth and satellite mapping hadn’t catalogued every square inch.

For me, there was a fascination with crossing the equator. On board ship, people crossing the equator for the first time (at least in the books I read) had to undergo an initiation ceremony involving Neptune, shellbacks and polywogs (see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Line-crossing_ceremony) so this seemed to possess a magical quality to me.

Now, we cross the equator at 500mph and at 35,000ft, so the magic is lost. Tom and Lucy were married in Cayambe, more or less on the equator and I must have been back and to across the line several times. I would liked to have visited the equatorial line in a park near Cayambe (not the one the French built, which is several hundred yards awry), but there just wasn’t time. I missed a great photo opportunity, but nevertheless, I knew I was on and across the equator and I can say I have stood on both the equator and on the Greenwich meridian.

12. I saw the Southern Cross

I have always wanted to see the Southern Cross, the iconic star constellation of the southern hemisphere, which is famously featured on the Australian flag. Christobal Cobo, an old friend of Lucy’s who now lives at the Hacienda Guachala with his wife Gabriella, knows a fair bit about astronomy and we were talking about stars in the southern hemisphere the night before the wedding (when it was too cloudy to see anything).

Wedding day night was much clearer and so he took me into the darker part of the courtyard to see the Southern Cross. On the equator, it's quite low in the sky (directly south, of course) and, looking north, you can also see the Great Bear (the Plough), which is the iconic constellation of the northern hemisphere. It is possible also to see the North Star from Cayambe, but Christoble explained it was very close to the horizon and you needed to gain some elevation in order to get a view.

13. I swam in a volcanic pool

Natural hot springs are 10 a penny in Ecuador and we were booked into Termas de Papallacta, a spa resort on the slopes of the volcano Antisana. This is a popular place with tourists and natives (as it’s within easy reach of Quito) and it was busier than other places we’d visited.

The water from the hot springs is piped into pools around the resort and these vary in temperature, ranging from warm to “like a very hot bath”. We tried them all. Several pools are large enough and deep enough to swim in, others are more for wallowing. Our chalets, also had their own network of hot pools and we were able to enjoy those after nightfall. I was going to have a dip the next morning, but they has all been drained overnight and were still filling up.

You can see why ancient peoples found hot springs such a magical thing. We’re used to baths and showers and it’s still pretty amazing.

14. I ate at Rules

Rules is one of the oldest restaurants in London. It specialises in game and was one of Winston Churchill’s favourite places to eat. I’ve often thought I’d like to eat there (more for the experience than the cuisine) and so when my boss Marc Tucker offered to take me out for a farewell meal following my retirement, I suggested Rules.

It’s a superb place,somewhat of a different age but not out of place in modern London. Service is excellent and I had roast suckling pig and a syrup sponge pudding to finish.

15. I organised Ciderfest

We staged Ciderfest in July to say thank you to people who had helped with the cider making and who had donated apples in 2013.

It may become an annual event. People seemed to have a great time, although we were really lucky with the weather and had it been raining, we wouldn’t have been able to cope with the numbers indoors.

This coming year, if it all turns out OK, we will have more cider for drinking and also a couple of new people to invite. It might become our annual party.

16. I visited Ripon Cathedral and Fountains Abbey

I took a motorcycle trip with Tom to Derbyshire and Yorkshire in August and there were a lot of firsts - Snake Pass, Holme Moss and Skipton ...

Two other firsts were a visit to Fountains Abbey and Ripon Cathedral (or Minster). Fountains Abbey is the ruined remains of what would have been one of the most magnificent religious complexes in the country. It would have been amazing in its day, which is odd because it was founded by the Cistercians, who eschewed luxuries and comfort. I guess they thought the magnificent buildings were to the glory of their god and not for their aggrandisement? Anyway, Henry VIII confiscated the land and riches during the Dissolution and so plunged them back into poverty, where they were happy. It’s a great place to visit.

The crypt at Ripon Minster is one of the oldest buildings in England - it’s the remains of an old Saxon church. It’s reached by narrow staircases and is quite atmospheric. Worth going if you’re in the area.

Fountains Abbey - magnificent ruin.

17. I used a stump grinder

This is an unusual entry and it’s the second power tool I’ve used for the first time this year (see rotavator). We had three large conifers cut down in late spring; you can never get the stumps cut low enough to the ground with a chainsaw, so I hired a stump grinder to finish the job.

I wasn’t sure what to expect and it is a strange tool. The cutter is set in the vertical plane is is basically a heavy wheel with a large notch. You position the machine over the stump and lock one wheel. You then draw it back and forth across the stump, cutting a large groove. You then reposition it and make another pass. I created three barrow-loads of sawdust and a lot of noise, but the stumps were dispatched in a couple of hours.

I hope to put a small octagonal greenhouse on the site next year. It will be the first time I have owned a greenhouse.

18. I am learning Spanish

I love languages and I feel quite uneducated that I cannot speak a foreign language with any fluency. I can get by in French, order beer and food ... that kind of thing, but I couldn’t have a proper conversation. After “hello, how are you? I’m fine too thanks”, I’d be struggling.

I can’t even do that in Spanish and when we were in Ecuador, I felt slightly disrespectful at not being able to at least make a gesture in speaking Spanish. If I’m lucky enough to be able to go again, then I aim to at least have better Spanish than French.

I’m having classes at U3A and I really enjoy them; it’s also an excuse to travel more in Spain. I tell you what, if any Spaniards want to know what the time is I’ll be right on it.

19. I went to Jersey

Sam and Lucy have moved to Jersey and we made a trip across in September to take them some of their possessions which had been left in our garage.

The ferry goes from Weymouth to Guernsey and then on to Jersey and it takes about four-and-a-half hours. Jersey is granite, it has some lovely beaches and pretty villages; it’s also really small (nine miles by five miles) and the speed limit across the island is only 30mph (20mph in many villages) with a small section of dual-carriageway at 40mph.

We’ll be going back to Jersey at least a couple of times a year I hope.

20. I went to an Allen Jones exhibition

This was two firsts for me - it was the first time I’d seen any works by this famous pop-art/shock-art artist and it was the first time I’d been to the Royal Academy on Piccadilly.

The exhibition made me feel very uncomfortable; it presents women in a way that I don’t like. It treats them as exaggerated sex objects; as vulnerable and exploited, and also as predatory. I couldn’t tune-in to his message.

21. I went for dinner at Lutyens

Lutyens is a swanky, fashionable restaurant in Fleet Street. It just happens to be in the building that used to house the Press Association.

Our actuaries and our lawyers took members of the pension fund trustees there for an end-of-year dinner. For the trustees who worked for the PA in Fleet Street it was a nostalgic return. We dined in what used to be the post room and dispatch department and lots of my fellow trustees were getting quite misty-eyed about it.

We polished off three bottles of Pol Roger to start and the meal was very nice. The most amusing thing was that there was an Allen Jones painting on the wall!

Travels on the Equator

Margaret and I, plus my sister Maggie, have been in Ecuador for the wedding of Tom and Lucia.

Here’s a few immediate impressions of the country:

Roads:

Ecuadorian road builders love their speed bumps, I have never seen as many as were stretched across the roads over there. Urban areas of Quito have them placed every hundred metres or so, which, considering the general state of roads in town, seems quite unnecessary.

But perhaps that explains why the urban speed bump is such an evil destroyer of cars. The roads in town are so bad that if you put an English speed-bump across the road drivers would think “hmm that was a nice smooth section.”

The bumps have to be big and nasty to make people slow down – and slow down you do.

There’s no standard size or profile, but I identified three main types:

• Triangular: designed to scrape your exhaust even if you crawl over it; try a bit more speed and you’re going to lose a silencer box.
• The quick rise: exactly the right profile to send passengers’ heads crashing against the roof- especially if they’re sitting in the back. This type can also auto unload the contents of pick-ups (unless they’re lashed down).
• The ski jump: constructed by Mr Nice on one side, Mr Nasty on the other. A “gentle” rise and a quick come-down on the other side.

Speed-bumps are everywhere, even on what would be classed as a trunk road. As soon as you get near a town or crossing, the planners feel a need for traffic calming. The bumps are all painted bright yellow, so you can’t miss them and someone clearly has a sense of humour because the other trick is to paint a thick yellow line across the road. This can have you braking desperately, only to discover there’s no bump, just a bit of yellow paint.

Out of town a new type of speed restrictor is used – a series of fierce corrugations. Take them fast and they’ll shake out your fillings, take them slowly and it’s like sliding downstairs on your bum.

Roads in town tend to be poorly maintained, some clearly are never maintained. In the countryside, roads can be brilliant – smooth and with great, constant-radius bends. Others are unsealed rubble. One section, between Papallacta and Quito, where road widening work was being done, varied between smooth, wide tarmac sections with no road markings and hardcore (with no road markings).

There are some road tolls, but they are really cheap. Toll booths are manned which is, perhaps, another form of traffic calming.

In older parts of Quito, some roads are paved (just like Belgium) and these are like a combination of all speed-bump types rolled into one.

Driving:

You’d expect driving to be a little scary, but it’s surprising how kind people are to each other. There’s a lot of horn-blowing in town, but it tends to be a toot-toot, rather than a blast. People will often let you in or out and if someone does something really stupid (like overtake on a blind bend) cars move aside to let the errant driver in or through. A British driver would defend his rightful piece of tarmac and would rather see a head-on crash than let someone in.

Speeding doesn’t seem to be an issue (see speed bumps, above), but even where there are no speed bumps, people don’t drive that fast. The exception, of course, is the 4x4 ‘yute’ – these crew-cab pick-ups are the Audi A4s of Ecuador. If there’s someone up your arse, you can bet your life it’s a pick-up.

Out in the country, lots of people beg lifts and are quite happy to sit in the back of a pick-up or truck.

Cars:

There are very few British cars. I saw a couple of Range Rovers and a Discovery in a richer part of Quito, but that was it. Chevrolet seems to be the most popular make and lots of things are badged as Chevvies. The most common are the old Daewoo models (now also sold in the UK  under the Chevrolet banner), but also Suzuki and Vauxhall/Opel models, such as the Corsa. There are also plenty of Kias, but the car to have is a Toyota 4x4 pick-up (or look-alike model).

Four-wheel-drive cars and cars with high ground clearance are very popular. There’s no market for big executive cars like an Audi A6 or BMW. If you can afford one of those, you’ll buy a 4x4 Toyota.

There’s no frost, therefore no road salt and therefore no corrosion issues. Cars tend to get shaken to pieces before they rust away, but you do see some old gems and some old heaps. The older heaps tend to be customised within an inch of their lives. Having lived through the 1970s when adding spotlights, a vinyl roof and go-faster stripes was de rigueur, I don’t mind a bit of accessorising.

Petrol is very cheap, you can fill up a small car for less than $20 and diesel is just over $1 per gallon (20p per litre).

Motorcycles tend to be low capacity and Chinese or Indian brands, many of them new to me. I did see one Harley-Davidson – a genuine one as people tend to stick Harley badges on lots of other bikes – and a couple of Suzukis, but it’s very much the exception.

Buses form the main type of public transport and they seem to vary in quality. Along the main spine of Quito, there’s a protected bus lane and buses run up and down this, packed like rush-hour tubes, belching out clouds of filthy diesel smoke.

Urban planning:

There isn’t any - build what you like, where you like as long as it’s make from breeze blocks. Favourite trick is to build one storey and leave the top unfinished until you have enough money or enough children to add another floor.

In the countryside, you still see some small huts made from adobe brick and thatch, but most are breeze block and corrugated steel.

Quito is the biggest city and it’s expanding north and south along a narrow valley. As the city becomes richer, more expensive development is pushing poorer people out and they’re moving south or being shoved up the hill. It’s not uncommon, in poor areas, to have no mains services.

Richer people are very concerned about security and tend to live in gated communities with security guards, or in houses protected by high walls and steel gates. I’m not sure if crime is a problem; I guess it is judging by the security measures employed, but I never felt threatened.

In a country where the scenery is magnificent, man generally makes an ugly stamp on the landscape. The exception is Quito old town, where there are some magnificent buildings, plazas and churches. That’s about the one good legacy of Spanish colonialism; almost everything built since the turn of the 20th century is ugly.

Food:

Salad can be cold vegetables, restaurants serve rice and chips with almost every meal and the country is in love with blackberries.

I did see Guinea Pig on the menu in one restaurant, but it was my first day in Ecuador so I gave it a miss. I might have tried one, but didn’t get a chance again.

Actually I ate really well. I had a couple of nice steaks, some chicken and pork. Breakfast was often juice, bread rolls with cheese and eggs – fried or scrambled.

Wine is quite expensive, but beer (bottled pilsner) is cheap. I tried some new fruits (including tree tomatoes) and liked everything.

Street dogs snuggled together in Banos

Dogs:

There are lots of dogs in Ecuador and none of them are on a lead. Street dogs are common everywhere, they start barking at around 5.30am, but apart from that, they don’t seem to cause too much trouble.

Little groups hang around together – an unlikely mix of small and tall hounds. Some are distinguishable breeds, but most are mongrels and most seem to fall into either a brown, short-haired terrier or a small, shaggy dog, like a shrunken labradoodle.

Dogs don’t seem vicious, most were very happy to have a stroke, but a small proportion will chase your car and try to bite the tyres. This seems more of a problem for the dogs than it does for the motorist.

Cotopaxi is only a few miles from the centre of Quito. Imagine this just
outside London - in Slough for example.

Geology:

This is amazing. There are very high mountains along the centre of the country, the Amazon basin to the east and rainforest and beaches to the west. There's also the Galapagos way west in the Pacific, of course.

We tended to stay high in the Andes, in a landscape dominated by volcanic activity. There are volcanoes everywhere, including one – Pichincha – which is just four kilometres from the centre of Quito. It last erupted in 2002 when the city was covered in ash. Just a few miles to the south is Cotopaxi (almost 5,900 metres high). This has erupted 50 times since 1738 and has twice destroyed the town of Latacunga (and I mean levelled). It’s clearly visible from Quito and 2 million people in the southern part of the city would be at risk in the event of a major eruption.

Just to the north of Quito is Cayambe (the highest point on the Equator and the only glacier to be found on the Equator) and to the south east is Antisana, so Quito is essentially surrounded by massive volcanoes.

No-one seems unduly worried by this and, in fairness, if you didn't build near a volcano, nothing would be built. People just rub along with hot lava, ash and pyroclastic flows. The volcanoes are, of course, magnificent to look at on a clear day and are a major tourist attraction. For me, I'd never seen anything like it!

Modern technology means there would be some warning of an eruption. Volcanic activity is colour-coded - orange means pack your bags and red means run!

Ecuador - Cotopaxi

Cotopaxi in the setting sun - seen from the roof of our hotel

I had never seen an active volcano before I landed in Ecuador - now I am knocking them off at around one a day.

Cotopaxi is one of the best. If you ask a child to draw a picture of a volcano, they will draw Cotopaxi.

Max would say it was a classic strato-volcano, where ash and lava is thrown from a central vent, building a distinctive cone. Cotopaxi is high enough - at 5897m - to have a permanent snowcap; although it's thick ice and snow (glacial), of course, not snow.

We were lucky to visit the volcano on a wonderful clear day, when the whole mountain was visible and lucky, also, to see the setting sun turn the snow-cap pink as we sat on the grass at our hotel. From a distance, it doesn't look that high; it looks inviting, as if you could walk up it in an afternoon.

That is not the case, of course, climbing Cotopaxi is a serious endeavour. Lots of people climb it, but it's no picnic. Here, I'd like to give a shout to the British mountaineer, Edward Whymper, who, having climbed everything in the Alps, set out to "do" South America. Many first climbs in Ecuador are credited to Whymper, some he had to do twice before people believed him! He wasn’t the first up Cotopaxi, but he pioneered many climbs and many routes.

We'd driven to Cotopaxi from Quito that morning. It's not far and, in fact, southern Quito will be in the firing line when Cotopaxi goes off again (which it will). It's a short drive down the Pan-American Highway, following the line of Ecuador's main railway line (although we didn't see any trains) for part of the way.

After passing Cotopaxi, we went on to Latacunga, quite a large town despite being razed by an eruption in 1768 and again in 1877. In 1877 the entire ice-cap melted and lahars (mudslides) travelled as far as the Pacific Ocean westwards and east into the Amazon basin. Living near a volcano requires a certain optimistic outlook, but Cotopaxi hasn't gone pop for 70 years. The optimist would say "it's shot its bolt", the pessimistic would say "any day now .." It has erupted 50 times in the past 300 years, the last time in 1942. Such is the happy state of modern vulcanology that if Cotopaxi so much as clears its throat Latacunga and Quito would be the first to know. It makes flood insurance in Somerset seem quite trivial. Imagine the conversation with Churchill ...

Is there any risking of flooding? No.

Crime level? Low, very low.

Anything else we should be aware of? Well, there's this fucking great volcano ...

Lucy says there is a colour-coded warning system for volcanoes in Ecuador. Cotopaxi is currently snoozing, but if it ever gets orange, be very worried about your Latacunga real estate. If it turns red, head for Columbia or Peru.

On a more mundane level, in Latacunga, I experienced my first Ecuadorian shopping centre, unsurprisingly, very much like an English shopping centre, but with security guards on the car park entrance/exit.

The supermarket was dead quiet (they haven't really caught on in a big way yet). The liquor section had a fantastic array of counterfeit Scotch whisky and London gin, plus the local sugar cane liquor at a couple of quid a litre. We bought Chilean wine (just like we do in England).

Buying on credit is still quite new in Ecuador as a service that’s widely available. There were shops specialising in credit sales and they had everything from motorcycles to tumble dryers. In the UK, competition means we often get interest-free credit, but in Ecuador, there's a massive mark up for HP.

I can remember my parents, especially my Yorkshire mother, talking about HP. Her view was that if you couldn't afford to pay for it, you shouldn't have it. My mother's view hasn't prevailed, we now take it for granted - we get what we want when we want (within reason) - but I'm not sure rampant consumerism is such a good thing. Ecuador beware!

After picking up those provisions, we went back to find our hotel. Lucy had arranged this and also sorted a guide for the Cotopaxi National Park. Foreigners are not allowed into the National Park without a guide. This sounds like a scheme to ensure employment for locals (and it does do that), but it was also partly because so many people were getting lost. You also need a guide on any mountain above 5000 metres.

Our hotel - the Hosteria Alma Del Sur - was a complex of chalets surrounding a central building, which served as lounge, bar and restaurant. There's a field with goats and llamas and an amazing view of Cotopaxi. Rooms were great, our chalet has a massive window looking out on the volcano. It was $73 for a double room.

We drove up to the National Park and met our guide at the gates. He led the way in his 4x4 and we followed in the Chevrolet/Daewoo. The land surrounding the volcano is not unlike the Desolation of Smaug; the land is ash and cinders and, when Cotopaxi erupts, the first thing that happens is the ice cap melts, causing flash flooding (lahars) and dramatic valleys are cut by the meltwater.

My sister and Cotopaxi by the lake at 3800m

We drove up to a lake at 3800m. This was formed by meltwater from the mountain and it's home to a number of wading/moorland birds, including a South American plover. The wind was really strong when we got out of the car and we had a short walk along an observation platform. Our guide said we could walk around the lake or we could drive up to 4500m where there was a car park and you could then walk up a couple of hundred metres to a mountain refuge.

Such was the lure of the mountain, we wanted to be as close to the top as possible; although, for me, walking at over 9000ft means I'd be gasping for breath.

The track up to the car park is not too bad. The road winds up the mountain and is literally a cinder track. I took this video on the way up, you can see it here. I also took this from the car park at 4500m, although it's too windy to hear me.

At the car park, the views are amazing, although the strength of the wind meant you had difficulty standing up, let alone walking into it. Worse thing was that lots of ash and fine cinder was being whipped up and driven into your face. It felt as though you were being sand-blasted, you needed glasses on to protect your eyes and ski goggles would have been better.

My sister was not happy in these conditions and went back to the car accompanied by Margaret. Tom, Lucy and I pushed on towards the refuge with the guide. It was a tough climb, fairly steep, on loose ash and against that gritty wind. Part of the way was in a valley, which sheltered us from the worst, but just above half-way, it opened out and we met the full force again. I decided I'd had enough. The going wasn't too bad (I think I'm fitter now than I have been for some time), but the wind and grit made it deeply unpleasant. I didn't think the view or the overpriced cola in the refuge would be worth it, so I said I'd turn back. 

Tom, Lucy and our guide, heading down to the car park.

I think everyone had been waiting for the call. It's easier going down, you can dig your heel into the ash and it's soft like walking down a sand dune. Back at the car, Margaret was in the back with my sister, who said she was cold and was struggling to breathe. I think we need to acclimatise her before taking her high again.

As we drove up to the car park, you could see a large chunk of ice missing from the cap just above the refuge. I read later there had been an avalanche in 1996 following on from some earthquakes and 13 people had been killed. The avalanche struck the refuge and people escaped by climbing from windows. Our guide told us that he'd been up to the car park the day before and it had been covered in an inch of snow.

Back at out hotel, we were able to watch the setting sun turn the ice-cap pink. Tom wanted a higher vantage point to take a picture and asked the hotel manager if he could go upstairs into the restaurant (which was closed as we were the only guests). He came up with us and opened one of the windows so we could climb out onto the roof – can you imagine that happening at Travelodge?

Tom and Lucy on the hotel roof - and me as well, of course.