In the Valley of the Ancient Ones : In the Southern Ecuador Village of Vilcabamba, Centenarians Are Common--Thanks to a Fertile Climate, Peaceful Setting and the Mineral-Rich Agua d’Oro

Nobody wants to get old. But, as the joke says, when you consider the alternative, it’s not so bad--especially for those who live in Vilcabamba, a sleepy, almost comatose town adrift in the Andes of southern Ecuador.

Folks in Vilcabamba have a reputation for long life. Very long life. More than a few say they have passed the century mark; people in their 80s and 90s appear almost common. And the Ancient Ones, as they are called, maintain their health and vitality right to the end. Heart disease is virtually unknown and cancer is a rarity, according to doctors at the local Kokichi Otani Hospital.

Claims that some villagers had celebrated their 130th and 140th birthdays are questionable at best, but life of every kind thrives with special zeal in Vilcabamba.

According to local legend, this was the original Garden of Eden. Flowers and fruit trees are everywhere. Seeds practically burst into bloom in the rich soil. Fence posts sunk in the fields routinely sprout new leaves. Even the animals are healthy. The dogs are perhaps the most robust in all South America--one mutt is said to have lived to 37.

News of this so-called Sacred Valley of Longevity reached the outside world about 20 years ago, courtesy of an anthropologist who visited Vilcabamba. Since then, scientific researchers and a slowly increasing trickle of visitors from around the world have been riding the gaily painted but battered buses that lurch through the Andes to reach this storied Shangri-La.

And although scientists doubt there’s anything like a fountain of youth hereabouts, visitors aren’t so sure. After all, vacationers at hotels such as Madre Tierra (Mother Earth) can easily avail themselves of all the things that locals say contribute to their longevity: peace, healthful food, a perfect climate and abundant natural beauty.

An almost transcendent tranquillity suffuses Vilcabamba. You’re never far from the call of a rooster, the moo of a cow or the chirp of birds. The climate, eternally springlike, is adjudged to be perfectly suited to the human organism. It’s hard to say whether it’s the profusion of flowers, the lush green of patchwork fields or the heavenly blue canopy of the sky, but there’s something distinctly otherworldly about Vilcabamba.

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Here, where five valleys converge in the shape of a star, peace is maintained by the spirit of the Reclining God, the huge and eerily Incan-looking stone profile that stares eternally skyward from the summit of Mandango, a mountain that dominates the western skyline like a thunderhead.

Exploring the Reclining God’s domain--and meeting some of the Ancient Ones--is as easy as mounting a horse and riding off down the Avenue of Eternal Youth, straight into the heart of town. Just about every one of the five hostelries in town, from the grungy-but-cheap Valle Sagrado (Sacred Valley) to the well-appointed (by local standards) hacienda-style Hosteria de Vilcabamba, can get you saddled up.

Riding into town is like galloping into the pages of a dreamy Gabriel Garcia Marquez story. Sprawled-out, snoozing dogs clutter the main street. Now and then, they are awakened as a somnambulant campesino leads a string of cargo-laden mules past the mostly empty cafes on the town square. Sometimes the church bells ring. Other than that, not much happens.

Just around the corner, a frail-looking Abertano Roa is basking in the afternoon light, shaded by an enormous hat.

“I’m the oldest one here,” he says, waggling a finger at a visitor. “There’s nobody older than me.”

Roa says the sweet water and tranquil atmosphere of Vilcabamba are what has kept him alive for such a long time. The reed-thin man says he is 120, but Victor Carpio Toledo, who works at the local hospital, says Roa is exaggerating. “He’s only 116,” Carpio Toledo says.

A lack of documentation makes proving the ages of the Ancient Ones impossible.

Down a side street, 94-year-old Alfonso Ojeda-Bastides fires up a cigarette hand-rolled in brown paper. Smoke curls from under his battered sombrero. “Everybody in Vilcabamba smokes,” he says, laughing, and nobody worries about the consequences.

The Ancient Ones are hardly ascetics. Like Ojeda-Bastides, they puff on big stogies stuffed with chamico, a leafy herb sometimes smoked to relieve asthma or cold symptoms; drink gut-burning trago, a moonshine distilled from sugar cane, and, according to some published reports, indulge in promiscuous behavior. It’s hardly the prescription for health in the U.S..

Over the hills to the east of Ojeda-Bastides’ adobe home lies one of the only traditional tourist attractions in Vilcabamba: a down-at-the-heels park with an orchid-arium displaying almost 400 varieties of orchids.

Along the winding dirt road that leads to the park, you might pass Gustovio Luzon, 97, working hard in cane fields so steep it’s almost impossible to stand upright. Dressed in patchwork coveralls, rheumy-eyed Luzon vigorously shreds leaves from maturing stalks. He’s been working all day, without even a stop for lunch.

“The old ones never get tired,” says passerby Fanny Macas, 38. “When we’re like them, we’ll be strong too.’

Only 20 years ago, the modern world had not set foot in Vilcabamba. Many of history’s currents have swept past this pinprick on the map--no one seems too sure where the inhabitants even came from. A generation ago there was no radio, no TV, no plumbing, no electricity. Now the outside world has established a toehold, and Vilcabamba is changing.

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But the mineral-rich waters that course through town are still free for bathing, and a dip in the rivers--the Chamba and the Uchima--is said to rejuvenate body and soul. Farther up into the hills, the cold waters of the even-purer Rio Yambala vault from the high peaks of Podocarpus National Park to spill through a steep valley en route to the river’s confluence with the Chamba.

Vilcabamba is one of the few places in South America where you not only can drink the water, you should. Many Vilcabambans consider the mineral-rich water issuing from a bubbling spring just outside of town to be the very elixir of longevity. A one-liter carton of Agua d’Oro, the supposedly life-enhancing liquid, costs 500 sucres (about 25 cents).

Yes, commercialization has reached even this distant outpost--foreigners are attempting to cash in on Vilcabamba’s reputation by marketing the water in Europe. The water merchants are among immigrants from around the world who have settled in Vilcabamba and its surrounding hamlets.

They include hippies who have drifted here to live holistic life styles far from Western civilization and to nibble the bitter green flesh of the San Pedro cactus, a powerful hallucinogen. The upright cactus, used in ancient lunar rituals and by Peruvian shamans, thrives in valleys around Vilcabamba.

One of the first of the “lotus eaters” to emerge in the area was a Californian called Johnny LoveWisdom. The self-styled guru, who once lived on nuts and meditation in the Andes of northern Ecuador, maintains Vilcabamba is healthy because the valley’s inhabitants are exposed to toxin-killing radiation spawned by magnetic sun storms.

A small band of followers rallied around LoveWisdom’s holistic living banner, but most have since retreated into the backwoods of the Vilcabamba region to continue their Aquarian Age lifestyles. Many maintain contact with the growing tourist trade, working as guides, hoteliers and massage therapists.

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The newcomers, hippies and otherwise, eke out a meager but contented existence. They have learned there’s no great secret to farming in Vilcabamba. Basically, you drop a seed on the ground and stand back. Trees in patchwork fields are bowed with the weight of bananas, oranges and avocados. Datura trees, heavy with cream-colored, trumpet-shaped blossoms, are planted outside many of the whitewashed adobe homes; locals believe the plant protects their dreams.

Many of the fields are fastened precariously to the sides of steep mountains. Some folks joke about farmers falling out of their fields and breaking legs. But others say scaling the steep grades day in and day out is a form of aerobic exercise that contributes to the locals’ robust health and longevity.

Finally there’s the exceptionally pure air said to be produced by the local huilca trees. The trees have been a godsend to Abel Espinosa and his wife.

The couple moved to Vilcabamba more than 20 years ago from near Quito. At the time, Espinosa’s wife was recovering from brain surgery, and Espinosa wasn’t feeling too well himself. Heart problems, he says. A doctor suggested Vilcabamba would be a good place to recuperate. Now 78, Espinosa agrees. His wife is still frail, but Espinosa says he feels great, thanks in part to the fresh air pouring from the huilca trees he’s planted around his modest home.

Now, the healthy looking bear of a man says he’s settling in for the long haul. “In 20 or 30 years, you’ll see me, and I’ll look the same,” he says thumping his chest.

With any luck, Vilcabamba will look the same, too.

GUIDEBOOK

Visiting Vilcabamba

Getting there: Vilcabamba may be far removed from the modern world, but getting there presents no special difficulties. Quito, the capital of Ecuador, is served by several U.S. and Ecuadorean airlines. A 30-day advance-purchase, round-trip ticket from LAX on American, Ecuatoriana or Continental currently costs $861. From Quito, fly into the provincial capital of Loja in mountainous southern Ecuador. (Flights operate daily except Sundays and cost about $50.) From the Loja airport, hire a taxi to take you to Vilcabamba. The 90-minute ride should cost about $20; expect to bargain for the fare. Alternatively, take a series of local buses into Loja and on to Vilcabamba. In Vilcabamba, the best way to get around is on foot or horseback.

Where to stay and eat: The Hosteria de Vilcabamba, situated in the countryside about a mile from the town, is the best in the area. The faux hacienda has a swimming pool, modest spa facilities and a good restaurant. Rates are about $40 a day. Write c/o Hidaltur Travel Agency, Loja, Ecuador; there is no telephone.

Nearby is the Madre Tierra, a favorite with the backpacking set. The hostelry has several thatch-roofed cabins with spectacular views as well as a few hotel-like rooms. Plan on spending about $8 per person a day. Rates include breakfast and dinner. Write P.O. Box 354, Loja, Ecuador; no telephone.

Several miles from town are Charlie’s Cabanas Rio Yambala. The handful of modestly equipped housekeeping cabins are spectacularly sited in a steep-walled valley. Rates are well under $10 daily. No address or telephone; inquire locally.

Side trips: There is excellent horseback riding throughout the Vilcabamba area. Hikers can climb Mandango or explore ancient burial grounds near the town.

Podocarpus National Park is also nearby; it is reputed to be one of the most beautiful areas of Ecuador. Visitors should be prepared for chilly nights: Podocarpus is about 10,000 feet above sea level. Lakes in the mountainous area are regarded as sacred by the locals. Guided tours and mountain biking trips can be arranged; inquire locally.

For more information: Perhaps because of its isolation, Vilcabamba is all but ignored by most guidebooks. The most extensive information can be found in the Cadogan series guide, “Ecuador, the Galapagos & Colombia.”

For an American company that specializes in travel in Ecuador, write to Adventure Associates, 13150 Coit St., Suite 110, Dallas, Tex. 75240; telephone (800) 527-2500.