In early 2012, I sent our land snail collector, Alex Bianchi, on a short trip to Loja Province, in southern Ecuador. We had very little material from this area, except for a few species collected by Jens and Christa Hemmen several years earlier.

Alex's first trip lasted only five days and took him to Loja, Vilcabamba, Catacocha, and a few small villages. The results were quite good, especially because he found a single specimen of Porphyrobaphe kelletti. That discovery was enough to convince me to plan another trip to the area.

In early April 2013, I arrived in Guayaquil, a city I know well and like very much. My first trip to Ecuador had been in January 1990, and at that time Guayaquil was one of the ugliest and dirtiest cities I had ever visited. About ten years later, however, the city began a remarkable transformation, and many of its least attractive areas were turned into very pleasant places. Along the Guayas River, the city built the fabulous Malecón 2000, with tropical gardens, museums, theaters, restaurants, and much more. Even the local airport had become an exceptionally attractive and functional small airport. What a change!

Alex and I had a six-hour flight from São Paulo to Guayaquil. Immediately after arriving, we rented a 4x4 and drove toward Cuenca, in Azuay Province.

As soon as we began climbing the slopes of the Andes, we stopped in tropical rainforest covered by dense fog. Alex walked around the area for half an hour while I stayed with the car on the narrow shoulder of the road. Ecuadorians drive like crazy, and parking there was rather frightening. In the time it took me to park, Alex had already found four Lampadion sp.! After about three hours of driving, we reached El Cajas National Park. It is one of the most fantastic places I have ever visited. Much of the park lies above 4,000 meters and contains hundreds of small lakes, some of them occasionally frozen. The vegetation looks as if it came from another planet.

Before entering the park, we stopped at a small farm to ask about snails. To my surprise, the farmer told us that he had seen some small species there. I had never really considered land snails living at more than 4,000 meters. He took us to an area of the farm between about 3,850 and 4,050 meters, where I found two snails that I believe to be Scutalus cf. anthisanensis (Pfeiffer, 1853), living in crevices in a large stone wall. Alex found two juveniles, and the farmer found a nice adult specimen.

Driving through the park, I saw some of the most stunning scenery imaginable. It was also really cold: around 0°C, which to us felt like 10 below zero!

Forty-five minutes later, we arrived in the beautiful colonial city of Cuenca. The city is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and lies at more than 2,500 meters in a gorgeous valley surrounded by huge mountains.

The next day we left Cuenca and headed toward Loja. The road seemed endless: up, down, up, down, like a roller coaster through the Andes. The roads were very good, and we stopped frequently to look for shells. Our first attempts were not very productive, although we did find a few species. During the trip we also began to feel a little soroche, or altitude sickness. We felt as though we could not get enough oxygen, and by the time we reached Loja we both had terrible headaches.

Loja is another colonial city, with about 200,000 inhabitants, situated at roughly 2,000 meters in the beautiful Cuxibamba Valley.

As soon as we arrived, we contacted some local people Alex had met on his previous trip and immediately went to check the area where he had found the Porphyrobaphe.

When Alex had found the shell the previous year, the specimen was crawling along the road to Catamayo during heavy rain. We searched the entire area but could not find a single shell. Looking around, we noticed a patch of forest near the top of the neighboring mountain, and it seemed possible that the shell had somehow come from there.

The following morning, Alex returned to the area with a local man he had met before. They checked every bush, hole, and patch of grass for four hours and found only a single dead specimen. We finally gave up looking for that shell and decided to explore other areas.

During the afternoon we drove to Malacatos and Vilcabamba. Along the way we found a different species of Thaumastus that I believe may be undescribed.

Vilcabamba is famous for the supposed longevity of its inhabitants; people over 100 years old are said to be quite common there. The small town is also full of foreigners, particularly retired Americans. The surrounding area has rivers, waterfalls, forests, and curious rock formations, but surprisingly few shells. In the mountains between Malacatos and Loja, however, we found a beautiful species, Thaumastus thompsonoides Oberwimmer, 1931.

We woke up early the next morning and drove toward the Catamayo area, once again going up, down, up, down through the mountains. At the top of one of them we stopped and found some nice Drymaeus loxanus (Higgins, 1872), as well as a very large species of Thaumastus that appeared to be new — but represented by only a single specimen.

A few kilometers beyond Catacocha, we stopped in a small village called Playas — “Beaches� in English. The curious thing is that the village is at least 100 km from the sea, in a valley about 1,800 meters above sea level. Beyond this point the landscape becomes much drier, and the vegetation changes accordingly. We took a small dirt road toward the top of a mountain and searched for an hour without finding anything. On the way out, however, we stopped where the dirt road met the main road and found two bulimulids on plants and rocks. Under almost every stone or rock I also found a scorpion! I believe both snail species may be new to science. One resembles Bostryx umbilicatus (Miller, 1879), but the shell is more compact and the apex is different.

A few kilometers later, Alex climbed a dry waterfall and found some interesting dead material, although again there were only two or three shells of each species. Then it was back to the roller coaster: up and down for more than 100 km toward Macará, near the Peruvian border. Our intention was to reach Zapotillo, a limestone area, but the road was so bad that after an hour, and only a few kilometers of progress, we gave up.

On the way back we stopped at an area with huge rock walls and found a nice population of Bostryx umbilicatus (Miller, 1879), together with a beautiful banded species that I believe to be Drymaeus nigrofasciatus elongatulus Pilsbry, 1898. After still more climbing and descending, we finally reached Loja late at night.

Early the next morning we left Loja for Zamora, on the Amazonian side of Ecuador. As usual, we began climbing higher and higher. Just before the entrance to Podocarpus National Park, dense fog suddenly surrounded us and Alex asked me to stop the car immediately. He had spotted a large shell on the road. It turned out to be a fabulous live Porphyrobaphe kelletti — the very reason for the trip. We parked and searched for more specimens, but the fog was so dense and the temperature so low — we were between about 3,300 and 3,800 meters — that we decided to try again later.

As we descended toward Zamora, the fog gradually disappeared and the mountain scenery revealed itself: millions of orchids and ferns seemed to decorate the road. We passed huge valleys covered with dense tropical forest and fabulous waterfalls, but did not find a single shell.

We were a little disappointed with Zamora. Much of the original forest had disappeared and the area was heavily farmed. After a few hours, we decided to return toward Loja and stop along the way to look again for our fabulous shell.

We found a trail near the place where Alex had collected the first specimen. We also found signs of a puma. Alex found four specimens — shells, not pumas — but only two were in good condition. The fog became so dense that we decided to return the following morning.

We left the hotel before 6 a.m. the next day and, fortunately, there was no fog. During almost three hours of searching in temperatures around 0°C, we found three more specimens. The shells looked like ice cubes!

Around noon we started back toward Cuenca. Along the way we stopped near the border between Loja and Azuay provinces, where we had previously found some dead material. In an area covered with cacti and agaves, we found some nice, large Thaumastus flori (Jousseaume, 1909). Because the area was so dry, Alex began digging around dead plants and found four specimens of a large bulimulid.

We left Cuenca early the next morning for El Cajas. I was very curious to see whether the farmer we had met a few days earlier had found anything for us. When we arrived, nobody was there, so we waited for three hours before he finally appeared. He had forgotten about the shells — as non-shell people so often do. We searched with him and found four or five specimens. I believe this is the highest-altitude land snail species I have ever found; we now have specimens from as high as 4,200 meters.

Just after leaving the farm, I noticed a small dirt road climbing toward the top of a mountain. I left Alex partway up and told him I would continue until I found a place to turn the car around. I drove higher and higher, but there was nowhere to turn, and the road ran beside an increasingly frightening cliff. Suddenly another car appeared coming down the same narrow road, and there was not enough room for both of us to pass comfortably. I stopped and made it very clear that I was not moving my car toward the cliff. The other driver squeezed past on the cliff side.

I asked him where I could make a U-turn, and he told me the only place was almost a kilometer farther up. I continued, now thoroughly frightened, as the road became narrower and increasingly slippery with loose stones. Eventually my heart was pounding so hard that I stopped the car, got out, and walked back down to find Alex. I had never been so frightened on any of my previous adventures. I handed Alex the keys and told him I was not even going back to the car.

At that moment, the same driver returned and I explained the problem. He helped Alex while I waited, sitting safely on a rock — far from the cliff. Later Alex told me that the final section of road had been so bad that even he had been scared. After that experience, I decided to stay away from small mountain roads. And the worst part? Alex did not find a single shell!

Descending toward Guayaquil, we stopped in a beautiful rainforest. We asked local people about snails, and everyone told us there were hundreds of shells everywhere. Excited, we began searching and really did find hundreds of... Achatina fulica!

I drove another five hours until we reached Puerto López, in Manabí Province, where I met some friends. The next day I drove to Jipijapa to buy a present for my goddaughter. Just before town, Alex told me he had seen shells on a tree. I had visited the area dozens of times and was convinced that those trees held only wasp nests. He tried to persuade me to stop, but I thought it would be a waste of time.

On the way back, he again spotted something that looked like shells on a tree near Puerto López. This time we stopped, and he proved me wrong by bringing back a beautiful small Drymaeus aff. buckleyi (Sowerby, 1895). He immediately reminded me that he had also been right about the trees near Jipijapa. The following morning I drove back there, and sure enough, the “wasp nests� were actually snails: Drymaeus cactivorus (Broderip, 1832). He had made a bet and won — and, in the end, so did I. Those were the last snails we collected on the trip.

After ten days of shell hunting, I came away with an even greater appreciation for land shells. In many ways they are more difficult to find than marine shells. First, they can be extremely difficult to locate in their natural habitat. Second, suitable habitats are becoming harder to find as farming and construction destroy large areas. Third, introduced species such as Achatina fulica create additional competition for native species, many of which are already threatened.

Land snails are truly amazing. Some are remarkably colorful, while others have very unusual forms. You can find them in places where you would never expect them, and fail to find them in places that seem to offer perfect habitat.

Dozens of rare cowries may appear on the shell market, but how often does one see a Porphyrobaphe kelletti for sale? In our case, only once. That raises an interesting question: which shell is really more valuable, and which is more at risk of disappearing?

Beyond the specimens themselves, one of the most important results of these trips is the record we create: distribution data, photographs, and information that may be useful to future generations. Sadly, many of those generations may never see some of these beautiful creatures in nature, but only in museums or private collections.