This journey traces the ancient backbone of the Cordillera Real, a landscape where the earth still breathes beneath your feet.

From the time-worn summit of Rucu Pichincha to the symmetrical perfection of Cotopaxi, and into the emerald folds of Pasochoa and Rumiñahui, we follow the line of giants - volcanoes that are more than mountains; they are legends written in lava and ice.

Quito welcomes the traveller not merely as a city, but as a balcony overlooking the world. Perched at 2,850 metres above sea level, it is one of the highest capital cities on Earth.

Here, even the first breath feels different. The body knows it instinctively, which is why this day is reserved for something simple yet vital - acclimatisation

The morning begins among eucalyptus and open skies at Metropolitan Park, a high-altitude green haven that lets us awaken the lungs and legs gently. If the mist lifts, the silhouettes of Ecuador’s volcanic giants appear in a regal line: Cotopaxi, Cayambe, Antisana, the Ilinizas.

Later, Quito opens its colonial heart. The first city ever named a UNESCO World Heritage Site, it glows in its volcanic light—its domes, cobbled squares, and baroque altars whisper centuries of resilience

“Rucu” means “old man” in Kichwa—and this mountain has watched over Quito since long before names existed. Standing at 4,696 metres, its summit offers the perfect initiation into the world of the Andes.

We take the Teleférico up to 3,945 metres, where the climb begins in earnest—first across Andean páramo, then up sandy scree and volcanic boulders. The altimetric gain from this point is over 750 metres, a steep but steady ascent. The final push to the summit is often windy, always rewarding.

From the top, the city looks like a cluster of toys lost in a basin of cloud. We’ve reached our first summit, and with it, our first taste of true elevation.

We leave behind the city and enter the Pasochoa Wildlife Refuge, where a cloud forest clings to the rim of an ancient volcano. Pasochoa, now extinct, rises to around 4,200 metres, and its interior has long been claimed by moss, orchids and the hum of hummingbirds.

The trail begins around 3,400 metres, and over the next 800 metres of vertical gain, we wind our way up through one of the last untouched remnants of Andean cloud forest. At the crater rim, the silence is only broken by the wind—and the realisation that this forest is growing inside what was once a furnace.

Named after the Inca general who resisted the Spanish invasion, Rumiñahui is a jagged sentinel of rock and myth.

The route starts at the Limpiopungo Valley (≈3,800 m), climbing steeply through high grasslands and rocky ridges. After nearly 900 metres of vertical gain, we reach one of Rumiñahui’s three peaks, the summit sitting at 4,721 metres.

From here, Cotopaxi dominates the horizon—icy, silent, and immense. The sense of proximity is deceptive; our true reckoning with the volcano begins tomorrow.

Another night at Tambopaxi Lodge follows—our lungs deeper, our steps stronger.

This is an active recovery day. We walk across Cotopaxi’s glacial plains, visiting Inca ruins where ancient rituals once aligned with sun and volcano. The landscape is wide, soft, and majestic.

In the afternoon, the group splits. Those preparing to summit Cotopaxi ascend to Refugio José Ribas at 4,800 metres, where they’ll rest before the midnight climb. The others stay at Tambopaxi and sleep beneath a sky heavy with stars.

For climbers, the day begins long before dawn. The ascent from Refugio Ribas to the summit (5,897 m) involves 1,100 vertical metres over creaking glacier, ice bridges and steep slopes of 35–45 degrees. Crampons bite the snow. Ice axes carve rhythm into the dark.

Around sunrise, if all goes well, the crater appears—250 metres deep, active and sacred. Few views in South America compare. You are now on one of the highest active volcanoes in the world.

Meanwhile, those not summiting follow a different path—into the Santa Rita cloud forest, where mist gathers in moss and birdsong echoes through the canopy. That evening, the group reunites at Papallacta, where thermal waters offer the gentlest of endings.

At 3,250 metres, Papallacta is both haven and highland. Its thermal pools, fed by underground volcanic rivers, soothe not only tired muscles, but thoughts.

For some, this is the final day; for others, an invitation to linger one more night in the mountains' embrace.