The Last Iceman of Chimborazo and a Disappearing Way of Life

My name is Baltazar Uzca Tenesaca, the only ice gatherer on Chimborazo. My father was the son of the Chimborazo, because he was albino. So I am the grandson of the Chimborazo, from Father Chimbo. Over the centuries, the native South Americans have climbed up to the glaciers of the Chimborazo, Ecuador's highest volcano, to gather ice. Today there is only one, Baltazar Uzca. He is the last hielero, the last ice gatherer. The small village of Cuatro Esquinas lies on the gentle northern slopes of the Chimborazo. This is where Baltazar Uzca lives with his wife, children and grandchildren. Together they run a small farm. Apart from a few sheep and pigs, Baltazar also keeps some donkeys, which he needs to transport the ice blocks. When I was young, 15 years old, I helped my mother and father with their work. Even as children, me and my four brothers went up the mountain to gather ice with my father. So I have been working in the ice mines of the Chimborazo since childhood. There is much poverty here, and as I have no other work, I thank God that I can work as an ice gatherer on Chimborazo. I do this work to feed my wife and children. I work to support my grandchildren, my son and my wife. Because of poverty, we work. Everyone must help to make ends meet. It's a moderate life, and the little income that Baltazar gets from selling the ice blocks at the market isn't enough to noticeably change the situation. Well, no. It is just about enough to help papa and his wife survive. With it, he sometimes buys some butter or a small bag of salt. It is barely enough to live on and pay for the children's school. I don't have an education, but at least my siblings went to school. There wasn't enough for me to go. With his income, mama and papa find a way to survive, but he has no other source of income. He lives on it, even though it is badly paid work. The earth at the foot of the Chimborazo is very fertile. Field fruits and corn thrive. There are two harvests a year. It's been 1,500 years since Ecuador's highest volcano last erupted, but the cooled lava flow from previous eruptions still enriches the earth with minerals, and the ash fallout that follows eruptions and falls on the surrounding fields is a rich natural fertilizer. Ecuador, the land of volcanoes, 55 in all, 18 of which are active. Over 200 years ago, a German explorer and scientist coined the term to describe the volcano chains along the Andes mountain range, which include the Tongo Rahua and the Chimborazo. The entire Andes mountain range is a zone of immense tectonic activity. Here, two gigantic plates of the earth's crust, the South American Plate and the Nazca Plate, are pushing together at a speed of 7 cm per annum. Just under 40 km north of the Chimborazo, at the foot of the Tongo Rahua, the landscape is wild and craggy, shaped by rock slides and constant new eruptions of molten rock. Early spring 2011 was the last time this active volcano erupted. Faced by this constant threat, many local farmers work as voluntary volcano observers for the Ecuadorian Office for Civil Protection. They pretty much watch the mountain round the clock and report any noticeable noises or changes to the authorities. Luis Agas is one of the approximately 40 volcano watchers from the Baños region. Within the zone, we are all in direct contact with one another. If there is a disturbance, we are very important because we are the eyes of the volcano. As soon as we see or feel anything, I, as a mountain observer of Chacaoco, go to my community, switch on the loudspeakers and warn the people in the whole village. Depending on the danger, we then have to mobilize. Time and again there are violent eruptions. 1999, 2006 and 2008, several villages were destroyed by rock slides, lava flow and ash fall. Thousands of villagers had to be temporarily relocated. And in April 2011, several villages had to be evacuated too. Many people keep returning to their villages, despite the government supplying new houses outside the danger zone, including Fermix and Angelica Agas, Luis's parents. Yes, most of the animals died, burned. There was nothing for them to eat. In the night, when burning rocks were falling from the skies, we left. In that night, we sought shelter in the houses that have protruding roofs. Otherwise, those rocks would have fallen on our heads. And now, we are back again. Back in Cuatro Esquinas, at the foot of Chimborazo. For Baltazar Uxca and his family, the volcano presents no threat. They live off it as best they can. Once a week, every Thursday, the old ice gatherer takes his donkeys and begins the exhausting climb to the ice mines to break off some glacier ice. It used to be good business. For more than 50 years, Baltazar Uxca has been a familiar sight when he rides through Cuatro Esquinas on his donkey. Early in the morning, the farmers are also out and about with their herds, driving them to the meadows on the gentle slopes of the volcano. The village lies at a height of 3,400 meters. Baltazar Uxca takes a good four hours for the 1,400-meter climb to the glacier. The high altitude doesn't seem to bother him, despite his 68 years of age. There used to be lots of work, lots of ice was gathered. The dealers even gathered ice themselves. In the past, there was no industrial ice, only the natural ice of the Chimborazo. There used to be huge demand. We went in large groups. In four or five groups with lots of animals, we used to climb to the mine. Many friends among them, but now that doesn't happen anymore. On the way to the ice mine, Baltazar Uxca cuts Stipa Ichu, the strong, resilient grass of the Andes, which he will twist into ropes to later isolate the ice blocks. For many indigenous peoples in Ecuador, like the Parua or the Quechua, the Chimborazo is sacred. The name is probably based on the Quechuan word razo, for ice, and the Jibaro word chimbo, for God's throne. Chimborazo, the icy throne of God. At a height of 4,800 meters, where the glacier begins, is the ice mine. With an iron bar, Baltazar breaks off big blocks of ice, which he then breaks up with an axe. He works without a break, because it is cold, and the weather can change at any minute. Once, he says, one of his donkeys froze to death. Every time, the ice gatherer breaks off eight ice blocks, two sets of four for each donkey. The blocks weigh some 30 kilograms and are tied to the pack animals with grass ropes. The tradition of ice gathering dates back to the Spanish conquerors, not just in Ecuador, but in other Latin American countries. Five hundred years ago in Europe, it was common practice to gather ice from the mountains in order to cool food and make it last longer. In South America, the Spanish sent the conquered natives into the mountains. From that, a profession developed, which today has virtually ceased to exist. At least in Ecuador, there are no more ice gatherers, other than Baltazar Uxca. Italian historian Girolamo Benzoni was the first to describe Chimborazo in 1565. But Alexander Humboldt, with his travel journals, made it famous in the Old World some 250 years later. When he, together with his companion Aimé Bonpland, tried to climb it in June 1802, he was thought to have followed the ice gatherer's paths. Even though Humboldt did not make it to the summit, his accounts made the volcano, which at the time was thought to be the highest mountain on Earth, popular all over the world. On a mountain plain on the western foothills of the Chimborazo lies the old train stop of Urbina. The railway is expected to be brought back to life as a tourist attraction, and it will also connect the Andes region with the Pacific coast of Ecuador. This has been Rodrigo Donoso's dream for many years. He has won a promise from the Ecuadorian government to finance the project. The mountain guide is hoping for many visitors from all over the world, who will begin their ascent of Chimborazo and the ice mines with him. He also dreams that the tradition of ice gathering would then also live on. This is also the highest point of the Pan American Highway in all of Ecuador. This place was strategically important because from here the ice, which the ice gatherers brought down from Chimborazo's glaciers, was shipped off. Back then, it was taken by steam train to the harbor of Guillaquil, a town some 262 kilometers away from here on the coast. The ice was important there to keep the fish fresh. Also, some 50 years ago, the truck and car traffic passed by here. So it was a strategically important point. Every Saturday, just after daybreak, Baltazar Uzca gets ready for the trip to deliver the ice to the markets in the provincial capital, Riobamba. Daughter Carmen helps him load the blocks. Baltazar has to pay his brother Juan 45 cents for driving the ice blocks. Juan used to be an ice gatherer himself, but driving the ice is more profitable. Come on, give him a hand! For many years, Baltazar Uzca has sold his glacier ice to the same buyers at the markets. These are his regular customers, and the last to buy ice from Chimborazo. And yet, every time, he worries whether he will still be paid the agreed price for his ice blocks. I get four US dollars for an ice block. On good days, they pay the full price. On bad days, they don't. They say they lose money if they pay the full price. Then I lose money because I have to pay rent for the donkeys and for the transport and the pickup. It is bad business. It's not worth it anymore. The ice that used to be used for basic refrigeration is today regarded as a delicacy. A fruit shake made with Chimborazo ice tastes so much better than one made with industrial ice. At least, this is what Señora Zepeda believes, as do many of her customers. Rodrigo Donoso also believes in the potential selling power of Chimborazo ice. If nothing else, his friend Baltazar Uxca has become somewhat famous as the last ice gatherer. In the last few years, Baltazar has become famous. Many national and international TV stations have come to report on him and his work. That's why most Ecuadorians know Baltazar Uxca. They respect him because they know that he does a tough job which is not well paid. The eight blocks of ice have been delivered. Baltazar is satisfied. He has earned $32 for one and a half days' work. When things go well, he can manage to make $128 a month, which isn't even half of an average monthly pay packet in Ecuador. Ice from the factories might be cheaper, but Señora Zepeda swears by the quality of natural ice. The ice from Chimborazo is something natural, lively, she says. It is born. It used to be a widespread tradition to gather ice in the mountains, and it happened on lots of peaks. At the Cayambe, the Cotopaxi and the Chimborazo. People like the idea of drinking something that has come from the mountains, something natural. They also know that this way they help Baltazar. And the ice is cleaner. No one today buys glacier ice for refrigeration. Most can afford a fridge or use industrial ice. Yes, this is a problem that affects all ice gatherers. We used to have three ice gatherers, the Uxca brothers. But people preferred to buy industrial ice, and not the ice from the Jilleros, the Uxca brothers. That is also why Gregorio and Juan pulled out of the ice business. Gregorio Uxca still makes a living from ice. On the streets of Cuatro Equinas, he sells ice cream, made with industrial ice. It's been about two years now that I haven't had to climb. I'm happy because now I have different work. I buy ice and make it into ice cream. In the town, they no longer need ice from the Chimborazo because there is industrial ice and fridges. You only have to put some water in a bag and put it into a fridge to get ice. That's why there is no longer any demand for ice from the Chimborazo. Volcanoes influence the lives of people in many ways. Every time the Tungurahua erupts, several tons of ash are hurled into the Earth's atmosphere, which then turns into ash rain that falls onto the land and destroys crops. Over the past few years, even the Uxca's small farm has been repeatedly affected by ash rain. When ash rains from the volcano, then our fields dry out and our animals no longer have anything to eat. We must then give the food for the guinea pigs, the grass, a good shake, so that it doesn't dry out and we can feed them. Recently, there was such a big eruption that all the plants were covered in ash and it even rained stones, so we had to shake the ash off the plants. I even used a stick to knock the ash off all our plants. Yes, that's how I did it. Living within the area of an active volcano is a constant threat to the already meager existence of the farmers. Most of them, like Kham and Uxca, have very little land, and the crops that these small areas produce is just enough for their daily needs. However, the threat of the force of nature, of volcanoes, is only part of the story, because it is just this ash rain with its devastating effects which also makes the soil more productive and gives the farmers better crops. Death and destruction on the one hand, life and fertility on the other. The clouds of ash are part of nature, and they can bring advantages. Recently, the trees were full of lice that damages the fruit. Then the ash rain came and killed them all. We grow tamarillo and maize here. After the ash rain has fertilized the land, everything grows and flourishes better, and we have better crops. The action in the Earth's core and the subsequent activity of the volcanoes in Ecuador are permanently monitored by the staff of the Geophysical Institute in Quito. There are also several monitoring points on the Tungurahua, which seismologists regularly check and maintain. The sensitive equipment registers any change in the volcano and sends the data to the observation station at the foot of the Tungurahua. The scientists each spend a week at the observation station before being replaced by their colleagues from Quito. The analysis of the data doesn't just serve scientific purposes, but it is also part of a government early warning system. Should there be an imminent eruption, the Ministry for Civil Protection is alerted, which in serious cases can order an evacuation, which is usually carried out by the military. With the eruptions in 2006, the population that lives close to the volcano could be alerted in good time because of the monitoring data. That, of course, saved many lives. The first alert that was issued in July 2006 and which warned of pyroclastic flow from the Tungurahua came five hours before the event. In August 2006, with a bigger eruption, the alert was issued 12 hours earlier. This head start was used to relocate people from the endangered areas in time, and so there was no loss of life. When Luis was a child, the Holegas family lived on the slopes of the Tungurahua. Luis still farms the small fields and the Tamarillo orchard. This is where he experienced the large eruption of 1999 together with his parents and siblings. This was my first home. I was born in this house. This is where I grew up. This house brings back many memories. A lot reminds me of my childhood, the most precious time that you have. When the volcano erupted in 1999, we were here at this height. This brings back bad memories because the eruption happened unexpectedly, something we never wanted to have happen. I must say, I was mainly curious. It is many years ago now, and I was younger then and didn't know how it would all end. At the same time, I was curious, because we are talking about 10 or 11 years ago. I didn't know what was going to happen or how it would end. We evacuated the whole population to a safe place. The house in Chacaoco, into which Luis Agas and his family moved, lies outside the immediate danger zone. It is a bit bigger, but most of all, more stable. When the volcano rumbles, then the windows all shake. Some even break. Yes, it scares us, because then the earth shakes and the windows shatter. We were given this house on loan. It is well built, and now we don't have to worry that it will collapse. With our first house, the roof was made of cement, which broke when the volcano caused falling rocks. What did you do at Señora Aira? Weeding and removing maize leaves. To permanently protect people from the deadly dangers of a volcanic eruption, the government has offered the inhabitants of Chacaoco and other villages at the Tungurahua new houses in La Paz, which is about 10 kilometers away. But hardly a house in the settlement is permanently inhabited. The Igaz family also don't really feel at home here. They seldom come here, on market day and, of course, whenever the volcano rumbles. It's blue, like firewood. But it doesn't sound that loud, does it? No. Quietly, until the mass arrives. That's why the mass is at four o'clock. Suddenly the volcano is less thought out. It's crazy. And so they keep returning to their village, which is their home, and where their animals and fields are. At the old Pan-American Highway, not far from the open rail station Urbina, Rodrigo Donoso has built a hacienda, accommodation for mountaineers who wish to climb the Chimborazo. There are few rooms and warm meals that can be prepared by the mountaineers themselves. There are also guided tours to the ice mines on offer, and every Thursday a chance to meet Baltazar Uxca when he is ice gathering. Rodrigo Donoso knows the mountain and the native myths and legends that encompass the Chimborazo like no other. He has climbed the volcano many times. With Baltazar Uxca, he says, reality and myth combine in a fascinating way, because Baltazar is not only the last ice gatherer, but he is also a grandson of the Chimborazo. This is very interesting. The old legend says that the Chimborazo is the father of the albinos, and so they are the children of the Chimborazo. According to this myth, the Chimborazo makes women who have got lost in bad weather and are looking for cover on the volcano pregnant. The Chimborazo offers them refuge and then impregnates them. And these children are albinos. They are the children of the Chimborazo. Rodrigo Donoso wants his dream to come true. Baltazar Uxca shall not remain the last ice gatherer of the Chimborazo. Reactivating the old rail line and an ice museum are to keep the traditions of the Hieleros alive, and their work as ice gatherers should be worthwhile again. Rodrigo Donoso wants Baltazar's son-in-law Carlos to believe this too. He is to become the next ice gatherer of the Chimborazo. It'll take a little patience, because they'll have to wait for the money for the project to arrive, he says. But when the railways come through here again, that'll be good for business. And the more ice they gather, the more money they'll earn. They can sell the ice in the museum, along with all the other products. That's a good idea, he says, because when you bring down the ice, they can surely sell it at a high price. Soon trains are going to stop again in Urbina to transport the Chimborazo ice onto Cuatro Esquinas. For over half a millennium, native South Americans have broken ice off the glaciers of the Chimborazo. And if Rodrigo Donoso's dream comes true, then the story has not ended. Then Baltazar Uxca will not be the last ice gatherer of the Chimborazo. Then, over the next few years, the Hieleros will continue to climb up to the ice mines in order to gather ice from God's throne.