The Río Verde does not fall politely. It arrives at the lip of a narrow gorge in the Tungurahua Province foothills, then drops into a sculpted basin of volcanic rock where every surface works against the water's escape. The result is a 260-foot descent compressed into a shape that refuses to let the river simply plunge and run. Instead the water circles, slams, boils back on itself, and finally - after shedding its fury - slides into the Pastaza River just downstream. The Pastaza carries the mingled flow eastward, eventually feeding the Amazon some two thousand miles away. The basin's rock formations are the reason for the name: viewed from certain angles, the dark, fractured stone suggests the horned face old-timers claimed to see. Whether or not you see the devil, you understand the cauldron.

For most of the twentieth century, Pailón del Diablo belonged only to the people of Río Verde. Roads were poor. Outside visitors were rare. The Baños de Agua Santa municipality eventually funded a suspension bridge across the Pastaza at the mouth of the falls, which was primarily meant to help farmers get produce to market but also, almost as a bonus, granted the first structured glimpse of the cataract to anyone willing to cross it. Access remained difficult. Then in the 1990s, two men changed that. Wilo Guevara bought land from his father-in-law on the Puyo side and opened what he called Pailón Grieta al Cielo, the Crack to the Sky - a long route leading alongside the falls, through dramatic stairways carved into cliff face. Around the same time Donald Wolfram, a Quiteño, bought the Baños side and opened a shorter route offering the full frontal view.

The short route, now called Cascada El Pailón, is approximately four times shorter than the long route and features what most photographs capture: two asymmetrical double suspension bridges offering the complete 80-meter panorama. TripAdvisor has repeatedly given it the Traveler's Choice award for the region. Along the way, visitors pass glimpses of the smaller San Miguel Waterfall - named, according to local tradition, for the archangel Michael who is believed to watch over the Devil in the cauldron and ensure he stays trapped below. Between the two waterfalls sits the Encañada del Duende, a hidden emerald lagoon tucked into tropical vegetation. The long route, meanwhile, hugs the lower side of the falls. It offers no full frontal view but something arguably more visceral: the experience of approaching the cataract from beneath, through staircases pressed against the rock, close enough to feel the spray deform the air.

In recent years, misinformation has circulated claiming the waterfall was historically called Cascada Río Verde. A CNN Español video and a National Geographic article both repeated the claim, apparently misreading a local song. The song in question actually refers to a different cataract, Cascada Río Blanco. Ecuador officially recognizes the traditional name - the one Angel Lascano defended to the point of spiritual exile - and national tourism campaigns use it consistently. In 2021, the bucket-list guide World's Most Amazing Places included Pailón del Diablo among its top 100 destinations. LATAM Airlines featured it in a promotional video showcasing Ecuador's natural beauty. The excommunicated man's insistence won out. The devil stayed in the name.