The Galapagos adventure was starting to shift from the present to the past as our bus cranked up the Ecuadorean highlands towards Cuenca. Two bus changes and nine hours after we left Guayaquil we had reached our destination - Vilcabamba, the valley of eternal youth, the rainbow at the end of the gringo trail, whatever you wish to call it. This magical place has attracted visitors for the past 20 years, many of whom have never left; a tranquil place in the mid-Andean valleys of Ecuador, Vilcabamba is the home of legends and ex-pat gringos, some of whom have blended in with the locals, others of whom stand out like hairs on a Christmas ham.

The attraction of Vilcabamba is its reputation for longevity, rising out of the presence of large numbers of centenarians when the average age of an Ecuadorean was only 60. Whatever else it is, it is certainly a peaceful and laid-back place, especially when compared with the noise and bustle of Puerto Lopez. Moreover, it is a gateway to the Podocarpus National Park, home of Ecuador's only conifer of the same name, over 500 species of bird and many different habitat zones from arid valleys through cloud forest to the cold paramo grasslands; a place well worthy of a visit and we had come to do it homage.

The back drop to the village of Vilcabamba is Mandango Peak (or Stoneface as its Quechua name signifies). This impressive peak rises steeply to a narrow ridgeline with the profile of a person's face looking upwards. It is one of those peaks that begs you to climb it when you see it - so we did. Our first surprise came at checking in at the entrance to the Camino de Mandango, where we were advised to leave any valuables and money in storage - apparently this is the one place in the area where people occasionally get mugged!

Still it was a Sunday and the locals were either in church or at the bars drinking beer, so we headed off. The track immediately entered very dry shrublands - most of the trees had dropped their leaves and the understorey shrubs looked parched, as they held out for the start of the rainy season.

Mandango Peak

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A rare splash of colour in the dry landscape

It was a hot and sweaty climb; leaving the tree cover, we continued to ascend steeply with the heat radiating off the dry rocky soil, before we finally crested a narrow ridge to reached the first cross. From here, we had impressive views over the village and beyond to the cloud covered mountains of Podocarpus National Park, an area that we hope to explore later.

However, the cross was not our goal; to the right, the "head" of Mandango lay like the narrow prow of a ship, so we dropped down a little onto the far side of the mountain, traversing the steep slopes, golden with their cover of dry grass. The path led us beneath the sheer cliff at the rear of Mandango, a pleasant place to rest in the shade before clambering up a steep gully to follow the top of the cliff and finally zig-zag our way steeply up to the ridgeline just below Mandango's nose and high point.

View over Rumi Wilco Reserve

Phase two of our getting back into walking shape was a short exploration of Rumi Wilco Reserve, a private nature reserve named for the "Wilco" tree, sacred to the indigenous people who lived here. This reserve protects some riparian habitat along the Rio Yambala and an area of drier native vegetation climbing back up into the steep slopes and gullies of the adjacent hills. Our walk took us along the river, up one of the gullies past the largest kapok tree in the valley and across a narrow ridgeline, where erosion had carved the conglomerate rock-clay cliff edges into curious hoodoos.

View over Vilcabamba from Rumi Wilco

This trek has something unique; it is the first time in the 3000+ km of treks described on this site that no photo of the fair Nello will appear. The bit of pain that started on the walk in Rumi Wilco blew up into a full-on attack of shin splints overnight; Vilcabamba has become the Wonboyn of South America and rest is the only cure. Still, there are not many better places to rest than this peaceful valley.

We had already organised this trek up into the wetside of the Valley, so leaving Nello to relax in the tranquil gardens of Le Rendez-vous Hostal, I set off alone. Alone, that is, except for our local guide Sergio and the two inseparable friends, Niño the packhorse and his mate, Boomer the dog.

The track started out in the upper Yambala Valley, passing through the grounds of Cabañas Yambala and climbing quickly up a steep ridge, via a meandering eroded gully that had been worn even deeper with centuries of use. As we climbed higher the views opened up over Vilcabamba nestled below the enigmatic profile of Mandango Peak. A large grilled gate led us onto a long traverse, first across the steep open slope then passing an area of wilding pines, followed by more shrubby flower-rich vegetation high above the Yambala River.

We headed up the Solamaco Valley, rock-hopping across the river three more times; stoically, Niño and Boomer waded the rapidly flowing stream at each crossing. After the last crossing, we left the river to climb steeply up the side of the valley, eventually arriving at a clearing with a small adobe hut. We had reached Refugio Solamaco; a welcome sight with its comfortable bunkrooms and dry verandah. My plastic Peruvian poncho hadn't stood up well to the rain and it was good to get out of wet clothes and socks and have a nice hot cup of Sergio's home-grown coffee.

An hour or so after lunch, the rain had cleared sufficiently to head out again. Sergio wanted to show me a hidden canyon and waterfall further up the Solamaco. We descended rapidly via a steep "machete-track", beneath the tall cloud-forest trees, covered in bromeliads, ferns, lichens and the odd orchid, which shared the forest with tall tree-ferns, giant bamboos, figs, palms, lianas and the iconic podocarpus.

Almost 180m below the hut, we reached the river and started to follow it upstream, sometimes wading (thankfully there were gumboots in the refugio), sometimes clambering over wet rotting logs or green moss-covered boulders, as we pushed into the canyon. Looking up, the silhouettes of the different types of cloud-forest foliage almost hid the sky. After passing a very narrow gap, we reached the small, but beautiful waterfall cascading out of a rocky chute and framed by the dense green dripping vegetation.

By next morning the rain had cleared away and many of the 500+ bird species that inhabit this region were singing in the trees and forest undergrowth. However, the cloud cover was low and hid the tops of the ridges - there seemed little point heading further up into the obscurity of the paramo tussock lands, so it was time for plan B. This involved a short trip a bit higher up the slope, along another rough machete-cut track through the cloud forest to see a 300-year old podocarpus that, at 40m high, towered above the rest of the trees.

At Las Palmas, the ridge widened and we wandered through a slightly boggy landscape of low shrubs and herbs, scattered with white and pink-flowering orchids. The "hand of god" was all around us, and what a curious plant it was - with scented cream flowers clustered on the sides of the three-bladed leafy stems. As always, Sergio identified and explained the traditional uses of many of these fascinating plants.

Lower Las Palmas Falls

Crossing the mini-plateau, we descended once again into the verdant cloud forest, a little bit further up stream on the Quebrada Solamaco, scrambling over logs, under low branches and past tangling vines to reach two more waterfalls. At 15m and 20m high, respectively, they were larger and more powerful than the one yesterday, with a strong horizontal mist blasting out from their splash pools and an everwet verdant flora filling the narrow chasm of the river.

Upper Las Palmas Falls

We retraced our steps 150m back up to the plateau and ate our lunch on the verandah of Refugio Las Palmas (at 2460m the highest point of the trek) as the cloud drifted around the top of the ranges behind us. Then it was time to head back, down to the river and back up to the long traverse and ridge that we had climbed the day before, towards the distant sunlight that shone over the Vilcabamba Valley.

Las Palmas Refugio

It had been a fascinating exploration of a very different part of the Andes - the diversity of these mountains never ceases to amaze. Thanks Sergio, for being an informative guide and pleasant companion, and to Niño and Boomer, the latter who always seemed to be just at my heel to make sure that all was well.