Before dawn, the mitten girl met us on the roof of the train. We had come early for this prized vantage point, however cold and uncomfortable. The mitten girl remembered us from the day before; we had indeed bought woolen mittens from her, matching them to hats we had purchased earlier in the market (if not to our new wool blanket that was really a poncho with the neck still sewn closed). Now the mitten girl would hook us up with a seat cushion rental for US$ 1 (we had been heartily advised ahead of time to splurge) so we wouldn’t sit for six hours on just the hard, gently sloping metal roof of the old train.

The train to El Nariz del Diablo (The Devil’s Nose) departs from the small Andean city of Riobamba that has been nicknamed Friobamba by Ecuadorians who agree that this pretty highland city lorded over by the snowy Volcán Chimborazo is indeed quite cold. The train then winds southward across Andean highlands to the town of Aluasí and then beyond to the precipitous rock face at the edge of the Andes known as the Devil’s Nose. The train descends and then returns to Aluasí again. Without derailing or any other mishap that must be scheduled in when traveling in Ecuador, the trip takes about six hours.

Passengers on the train to the Devil’s Nose prefer the view from the roof to the relative safety and comfort inside the train.

The train track down the Devil’s Nose was once an engineering masterpiece that solved the mystery of how a train might run from the high altitude capital of Quito to the Pacific ports near Guayaquil. Since that time the devastation of El Niño floods have torn up the tracks and only the part between Riobamba and the Devil’s Nose itself remains operational as a tourist attraction. Even those who ride the train get off in Aluasí above El Nariz del Diablo and catch a quicker, more comfortable bus back to Riobamba or continue south to Cuenca.

All of the early birds were foreigners from everywhere but Ecuador. Travelers arrived well ahead of departure time to claim the space closest to the back of the train away from the diesel engine fumes, which are not as bad as the smoke and coal soot of the old steam engines that were used until recently.

The best seats are on the coveted right hand side, which has the better views and faces out over the cliff for the final descent. In addition to mittens, hawkers sell instant coffee, snacks for the trip, and candy to toss to people you pass en route. The Ecuadorians, who apparently all preferred the left side of the train to arriving early, scrambled up to the roof moments before the train pulled out of the station, already behind schedule. Only a few families opted to sit inside of the train. Everyone else braved the roof.

We were lucky. The day was unusually clear for the highlands and the early light was lovely against Chimborazo, whose distinctive, three-humped summit looms 20,700 feet (6,310 m) above sea level. We creaked our way through Riobamba and out into the classic patchwork hills of highland Ecuador.

The train wound its way past little thatched farms where pale sea-green new wheat contrasted golden heads of barley and darker, purple-green fields of fava beans, which are similar to lima beans. Men in woolen ponchos straightened in their fields to wave at the train, as did women in jaunty hats and turquoise shawls pulling goats or cows behind them on strings. I was slightly disturbed, however, by the unsmiling children who clearly imagined that the harder they waved, the better the chances someone would launch a lollipop their way. At one hilarious point, the train had to stop while a grinning boy in a fedora hat ran around waving a stick trying to clear his frantic sheep from the tracks.