Ride Report: Ecuador

[1.21GW]

Awesome . . .  sadly the Panama tour had to be cancelled ... Next time

Don't worry, there will definitely be a next time. 

[1.21GW]

Day 2: Angamarca to Salinas

With tanks full and empty stomachs, we heading to our lunch destination: a mountain town called Angamarca.  The joy of asphalt ended and we returned to playing in the dirt on roads like this.



At this height (12-13000' / 4000m) the clouds sometimes are below you.  Pretty cool how they gathered in the valleys.



This is an artsy picture of Illinois's bike.  He is a harley guy so the hat was essential attire when he took off his helmet.



There was this huge hill of nothing that jetted up from a ravine at one of our stops.  I don't know why it called to me but I had to take a picture, so I hiked down for a shot.



The climb back up was exhausting.  It was my third day in Ecuador and I had seemingly gotten used to the elevation by then, but the steep hill reminded me that we were at altitude.  Fun fact: at 4000m there is 63% of the oxygen of that at sea level.  Huffing and puffing I paused for this shot.  The Midnight Cowboys on top of the world!



We rode for another hour or so through stunning mountain views.  I apologize at this point for the effusive descriptions of views, but really I think the whole trip was just one "wow, nothing can top this" followed by "well, yes, I guess something can".  Windy dirt roads going up and down through the mountains.  Lots of remote houses---some of them primitive thatched construction---and tons of cattle, horses, mules, sheep, and the like, often tied up on the side of the road for some incomprehensible reason.  We saw people milking cows and washing their laundry in streams.  It all was very pastoral and pleasing.  Here we crested a mountain and came into this view, which prompted a stop.  Gotta love that windy road in the center.  Two-wheel dream.



For scale: there are some horses in the bottom left of this image.



And views were interesting all around.  Look up...



...and you see a steep hill full of sheep.



Just so much to take in, we had to capture it.  Here is Illinois putting down his coffee to take a no-doubt stunning picture on the edge.



Some of us didn't bother trying to capture the ineffable and instead just soaked it all in.



With stomachs growling, we saddled up and rode down to our target.  As we got close, school must have been let out as there were scores of children walking home in their uniforms.  The uniforms are a navy blue, but many of the little girls had a hat or scarf of bright pink or purple which made for a colorful accent.  The bright Quechuan colors always stand out so nice and I am sorry that none of my pictures show it.  Anyway, here is a statue in the town center.  I imagine the man saying "Hey everyone, I have captured the guilty llama!  The village is now safe."



This old woman was maybe 4'6" tall but her age or stature did not limit her agility.  After I took this I looked back and she was already 30 ft up the hill past be.  A lifetime at high altitude makes for strong legs and lungs.



Here are some school boys in their uniforms.



And my bike framed by the beautiful mountains.



We had a tasty meal with trout and rice.  France told me that Ecuadorians really like rice in their cuisine.  There apparently are rice fields in the country, and the tiered mountains here seem ideal for growing the grain (although perhaps its not humid enough), but unfortunately we didn't cross any rice fields in our trip.

This guy was the owner of the restaurant.  I told him I loved his jacket and wanted a pic and he happily obliged.  So friggin' cool.  When I turn forty, I'm growing a mustache and buying a hat and jacket like that.



On the road again, we began climbing through cloud forests and visibility got very very low.  It didn't put me at ease that there were huge steep drop-offs on the side of the rode and the surface became muddy.  In my experience, mud was the least predictable and safe off all the surfaces we rode on.  He we stopped to relieve our bladders on what, for that part of the day's ride, was a relatively wide patch of road.



We had a few minor river crossings---actually stream or brook is probably a better description.  I loved my SIDI boots on this trip and they resisted the constant fog and rain, but on one particular crossing I almost lost the bike and in the process of saving it my feet got below the level of splashed water, which poured in above the top of my boot.  My feet were soaked and water was sloshing around inside my boot.  Not fun.  So when we reached our next stop, I took them off, poured out the water and switched socks.  God that fresh air felt good on my pruned toes.



By this point in the trip I had identified Manicho as my go-to recovery snack.  Simple chocolate bar with peanut.  Yum!  I probably had a dozen of these over the 4 days.



Here we took a moment to relax and rest after a long day of riding.  Some caught a little shut eye...



...and some took artsy shots of the cloud covered sky.



I even did a little exploring. Here was another ubiquitous soccer field.



There was even a spectator.



Ok, so judging from the pictures you can tell it's getting a little dark.  I don't remember what time it was but it was mid-to-late afternoon.  And the thing about Ecuador is that it is on the equator, which means that they really don't have much variation in night and day over the year.  Pretty much just 12 hours of each.  So the sun sets ~6pm.  No long summer nights like we get in the northern US or they do in Europe.  Which means we have to book it to get to our destination by nightfall.  Actually, what it really means is: we ain't getting to our destination by nightfall.

We head off through humid dense jungles and are cruising---50-60km/hr through the muddiest wildest jungle roads you can imagine.  It may only be my second day riding dirt in my whole life, but it's been a LONG two days and I feel like an MX champion: fearless, focused, and throttle happy.  Lots of fun, though one of our group had a get-off that just missed the edge of the road by maybe 3 inches, in which case he would have gone down a 30 ft hill.  But we all manage to survive and reache the hills, which quickly became mountains.  God, the mountains were tough...

By then it was dusk and as we ascended the fog came and got thicker and thicker and the light faded.  Switchback after switchback of step dirt hills with the occasional patch of deep mud.  Oh, and random cattle, horses, mules, or sheep parked on the side of the road or, in the worst moments, cutting across our path.  Our comm systems were crucial at this point, with riders pointing our obstacles and threats in the dim light.  Three hours we climbed like this, crawling at 20 km/hr due to danger and limited visibility.  Colorado was to say that it was the hardest dirt riding he's ever done.  

And now it's time for Husky talk.  So my bike had been fine up to that point, and I really liked the power and smoothness of its delivery.  Sure, France had to constantly monitor coolant levels on my bike when stopped, and neutral was IMPOSSIBLE to find, but all in all I loved my steed.  Well, after 2.5 hours of harsh climbing, the clutch lost pressure.  I checked my front and rear brake and they were fine, so I don't think it was related to elevation gain/air pressure or engine heat boiling the fluid.  I found that I could pump the clutch and after 10-12 pumps pressure would return---kinda like bleeding a brake.  But I worried if there was a leak I was essentially pushing all the fluid out and would be without a clutch entirely, so I stopped that experiment.  Truth is, it wasn't really a big problem since I was doing clutchless shifting when I needed to shift, which wasn't often as we kept the same steady pace up the mountain.

But then, after we arrived above the clouds, the mountain climb tapered off, the moisture died down, and my beloved Husky gave up.  Puttering down a long path, my headlight flickered and 30m later she stopped.  I was last in the group so no one was behind me to stop.  Communicators were out because the long day exhausted their batteries.  I tried honking my horn but no power in my bike.  So I just stopped and watched 5 red lights get smaller and smaller until they curved left and disappeared.  Here she is, dead:



Believe it or not, this was my most cherished moment of the trip.  I figured that eventually someone would realize I'm missing and come back, so I dismounted, removed my helmet and gloves, stretched my achy neck and legs, and just marinated in the moment.  There was a full moon illuminating the rolling hills of the mountain top.  And there was deep silence.  It was just a beautiful serene setting and I forgot about my bike problem and enjoyed the zen of it all.  After a while I realized maybe they aren't coming back, so I began rolling the bike down hill.  And then, off in the distance, a sole white light.  It was Illinois, who rode ahead of me the who trip and generally was good at keeping an eye on me.  Here he is in an "Oh well, whatever" stance.



The bike had cooled a bit and when I tried to start it it made a valiant effort, suggesting power improvement (on my initial attempts at restarting when I first stopped nothing would happen; it was dead dead).  So we decided to try a moving start since we were luckily on a downhill surface.  Success!   Illinois ran back to his bike and I fumbled on my helmet and gloves and we were off.  Well, off for about 3-4 km until we ran into a fork in the road.  Not wanting to exacerbate the situtation by taking the wrong path, we stopped and waited for one of our party to come looking for us.  I mean, with TWO people missing, SOMEONE had to take notice?  Maybe not---Illinois and I were the chattiest two on the comm system, so maybe they were happy to get rid of us.  

When you're killing time at a fork on a mountain in the middle of nowhere, what do you do?  Take pictures of your bike, of course.



Well, that or pour a cup of coffee from your thermus.



About five minutes later France came riding over the hill and lead us to our hotel, which was a mere 4-5 km away.  Soaked, sore, and tired as all hell, I hung up my gear to dry and settled in.  Not but 48 hrs ago all this stuff was sparkling new.  Now it looks like it just got back from two tours in Afghanistan.  No better way to break in gear than this!



A fresh fire warmed our aching bones and dried our gloves and socks.  We had some pizza from a local pizzeria run by an italian, coupled with a much needed beer and some wine, and watched a little tv before going to bed.  It was a long long day.



Things learned on Day 2:
- Mud is the hardest of surfaces to ride through
- My husky maybe ain't all I hoped it would be [sigh]
- Your boots can be as waterproof as you want but if the water level comes above the top of the boot, you're getting soaked

[Langanobob]

Great story, not sure what's better, the black and white photo's (almost expected to see a 19 year old Lauren Bacall) or your wordsmanship.  I had to look up ineffable.

Thanks!

[1.21GW]

Haha. I had to look up Lauren Bacall, so we're even.

Thanks for the kind words, Langanobob.

[ducpainter]

Great read Royce.

[1.21GW]

Day 3: Salinas to Guaranda

The benefit of two beds is that I can sleep in one and lay my gear out on the other so we both could recover.



With an east facing window, my room got hot and bright quickly and woke me up early.  So I go on my balcony, open the door, step outside, and see this:



Wow!  Looks like a town in the Alps, no?  Well, it kinda is.   You see, this is Salinas de Guaranda (there are more towns named Salinas in the country, this one is in the Guaranda province).  "Salinas" comes from "sal", spanish for salt, because there are salt mines in the area.



Well, the mine owners had effectively enslaved the native inhabitants to work the mines up to as recently as the mid 20th century.  It wasn't quite clear to me how or when this ended, but an enterprising Swiss-German man living in the area stepped in and filled the entrepreneurial gap by teaching the locals how to make the most Swiss of things: cheese and chocolate.  Flash forward a fifty years and they now have a state-of-the-art cheese production facility.





The facility is run as a co-op.  The locals bring their fresh milk every morning and receive cash for the milk and a dividend of a small portion of cheese that is produced.  We were at the facility during the morning rush when everyone was dropping off their milk.



They use horses, donkeys, llamas, and for those that have them, cars, to haul the milk up the mountain.  Here is the parking lot, complete with each of these animals parked along the fence.





This woman brought her milk up on a llama.  She said I could take a picture of the animal for $1.  I should have asked if it had a name.



Anyway, here is the $1 picture of the glorious beast.  It's as if he knows this is going online.  You shine, llama!



The facility makes a variety of cheeses: mozzarella, gouda, cheddar, etc.  We tried some samples and they were very good.  I would have bought some but I figured it was just going to melt in my saddlebags so I opted to just enjoy our samples.  Next we explored the chocolate facility.  Unfortunately, we couldn't tour the main floor because they were in the middle of preparing the machines and our dirty gear would risk contaminating the place.  So this is the only picture I have.  It is poured chocolate cooling on racks.  Like the cheese, we also got some samples of the chocolate and, like the cheese, it was delicious.  I tip my hat to the anonymous Swiss-German that helped establish this place as a cheese & chocolate paradise.



Here is a white donkey on the side of the road.  For some reason, Ecuadorians love to tether their beasts of burden to thin patches of earth next to a road.  I would think they'd want to put them at a distance from where trucks and packs of americans on motorcycles pass with reckless abandon.  But nope, they just keep them tied down at death's doorstep.  There was one mule I saw later this day that was on a 3ft patch of grass between a narrow dirt road and an I-kid-you-not 80 ft vertical drop down the mountain side.  He brayed at me as I rode by.  I understand your plight, mule.  Bray away.



We headed to town for some coffee before hitting the road.  In the plaza there were loud music and a group of teens performing some dance steps.  Turns out there were practicing for Carnival, which kicked off the following week.  Apparently, the Guardana province has one of if not the biggest Carnival celebration in the country.  The kids had some good moves, too.  At some point the girls and guys paired off.  This poor girl had no partner.  I considered offering to stand in, but I thought that would embarrass her more.  Anyway, she did fine and I'd like to think she had killed it at Carnival the following week.



It was cool to see the kids out and about in the plaza while the town's daily activities went on around them.  This was common in many of the small towns we passed and gave a nice fluid sense of community that I don't see much in the US.  By "fluid", I mean that people interact with each other without barriers.  In the US (and I'm generalizing here, but remember I live in the social dystopia that is NY), we are generally very scared that strangers will kidnap or exploit our kids.  And, more pragmatically, we don't have a lot of town centers that attract activity and people watching.  So the sense of community is diminished.  On the contrary, most small towns in Ecuador did have such a center---usually a square plaza literally right in the center---where old folks, adults, teens, and toddlers all interacted.  Reminds me of small villages in Italy I've visited.

We had a true italian espresso made by the same italian that made our pizza from the night before, and enjoyed watching the kids practice.  The smiley face cup got me in the right mood for the day.  Molto buono!



So, on Day 2 Cleveland went down in the mud and it caused a tear in his tricep.  He rode with us in the morning to the cheese/chocolate tour, but realized that he was going to have trouble riding.  Ultimately, and with much regret, he opted to bow out of the rest of the trip.  It was no doubt a hard decision that would stir thoughts of regret.  I know because two years ago I climbed Mt. Rainier and decided to bail at 12,200' (due to altitude sickness) while my friends went on, ultimately summitting.  The 8-or-so hours I spent waiting while they climbed were some of the hardest I endured: endless questioning of my decision and doubting my resolve.  It ate me up for months.  I don't like quitting, so when I got home I recruited some friends to join me on another summit attempt the following year, which I succeeded at.  It was a good lesson: the mountain will always be there for another attempt.  Anyway, I conveyed this to Cleveland to help ease some of the stress of his decision.  Better to play it safe and come back 100%---besides, Ecuador ain't going nowhere.

Before he left, we needed to document his properly muddied bike and gear.  Jackson Pollock couldn't do better.   Those are Ford-F150-TV-commercial quality mud stains.



We found a livery to take him back to Quito for a reasonable fee.  It was in fact the italian---between the great pizza, the perfect espresso, and the available pickup, that guy was the hero of Salinas!  Here the team is getting the bike into the truck bed.  Don't worry, I helped and didn't just take pictures.





We even had a local audience.



Ready to go.  Great riding with you, Cleveland.  Have a safe return!  He said he was definitely going to come back and do the tour again.



Back to the hotel to pack up and get started.



We checked my bike and it seemed to be working fine.  A little top off to the coolant (that's the dark stuff dripping down the case cover) and a few prayers to Hermes and I was ready to go.



Loading the BMW took some time, and we eventually left Salinas about 90 minutes after we originally planned.  We were determined to make it to our destination before dark and cast off the Midnight Cowboys nickname.  Luckily, France informed us that the day's riding wouldn't be as long as the previous two, with the benefit of a chunk on tarmac.  I was cautiously optimistic!

The next hour took us through a moonscape in Chimborazo National Park.  This is maybe 4300-4500m above sea level (13-14000'), so sometimes the clouds are below you.  Heaven indeed!



Chimbarazo Wildlife Reserve is named after...Chimborazo, an inactive volcano that is the highest point in Ecuador (6,268m / 20,564').  It is also the point on the earth farthest from the earth's center (it beats Everest by 2km due to bulging at the center of the earth).  As a wildlife reserve, it contains lots of flaura and fauna, including the Andean Condor, although we didn't see any.  We did see wild llamas running in the fields along the highway.  Well, meandering is more accurate---I don't think llamas are big on running.  Here is the reserve with the Chimborazo in the background hidden in the clouds:



And here she is fully exposed.  Gorgeous, no?  The scale really doesn't come across but man is it big!



After leaving the reserve, we rode through quiet mountain towns on smooth asphalt, up a dirt road into more remote areas, and then down a dirt path past tall green peaks like these.



You can see a fun dirt road below, a lot like the one we were on.  BTW, this was the section of the trip where I saw the poor braying mule tethered to 3ft of grass trapped between certain death and, uh, other certain death.  Well, at least he had a nice view.



Nearing the end of our path we were stopped dead in our tracks.  Road construction.  France inquired about letting us through, but no dice.  They told us to take the detour.  Huh, detour?



Ohhhhh, you mean this.  Would have been nice if the sign where standing when we passed.  It had fallen over.



So up into the hills we climbed.  It wasn't that bad and we quickly came back down and onto the asphalt we so desperately sought.  A twist of the wrist and we booked it to lunch, still holding out hopes that if we can keep a quick pace we'd arrive at our hotel before nightfall later that day.

[1.21GW]

Day 3: Guaranda to Quevedo

In Guaranda we had lunch at a BBQ place that was fantastic.  Atlanta was skeptical because, being from Georgia, he expected something else when he heard "BBQ".  But he, like all of us, enjoyed the food, although he never betrayed his southern class.  Look at how he uses a fork and knife like a proper person.  Meanwhile, in the background, France and Colorado are ravening down their like starving wolves.  I was equally ravenous.  



You can see the meat in the foreground on a mini-grill, complete with coals to keep it hot.  There were different types of meat: steak, sausages, blood sausage, hot dogs, and chicken.  All full of flavor and well seasoned.  And not only was the food four stars, so were the views.  This is the view from the bathroom window.  It made peeing a transcendental experience.



After lunch we fueled up and headed out onto a paved highway that twisted through the hills.  Things were looking good for our goal of avoiding night riding, at least for about 15 minutes as we booked through the hills.  And then we hit a wall of fog.  It was the densest and wettest fog we encountered on the whole trip.  At times visibility was maybe 20'.  I lost view of Illinois a few times and knew where I was going solely via comm system communications.  Add to that the risks of trucks and cars coming in the opposite direction often without headlights, gravel spots, mud coverings, and one or two rock slides that had spilled out onto the road, and we had our hands full trying to stay safe.  No pictures form this section but really, they'd all just be white so you aren't missing anything.

After about 30-40 minutes, the fog cleared although the rain picked up.  We decided to pull over and take a break.  It gave me a chance to put on my rain pants.  Of course, and without fail throughout the trip, whenever I put on my pants rain stopped and when I took them off the rain was sure to pick up.  The gods were playing pranks on me.  Still, with temperatures generally in the 70s F, being wet was not that bad.



Her a woman walked by with a big machete, said hi and shared an ear-to-ear smile, and continued on her way.  When the weather changes this much, I guess you get used to it.  It wasn't affecting her day.



We continue on until we reached a town called Echeandia, which was apparently a moto enthusiast's dream.  Everyone was on bikes and they were particularly intrigued by the 5 guys in strange gear with big engine hogs.  Like good proud motocyclists, they peacocked their rides.



This kid brought his mom...



...these girls wanted to show that bikes aren't just for boys...



...these kids piled on in three and weren't shy about attracting our attention...

[

...and here is Ecuadorian John Ratzenberger.  I guess when Cheers closed down he headed for a new life south of the border.



Colorado and I were chatting about whatever and at some point he leaned in to tell me there was a kid on a moped idling behind me for about 10 minutes, just waiting to talk to us but probably too shy to start the conversation.  So we gladly started talking to him.  Immediately, a crowd formed.  I mean, immediately.  The muscular guy below with the shaved head took the lead and asked us a billion question while also doling out a billion recommendations.  It proves that no matter where you are, bikes bring people together.



My favorite part of this picture is the kid on the bicycle on the left.  He has the pose and suave look of a 1970s gangster.  Anyway, the enthusiastic crowd reminded of this poster.  God, I love riding a moto.  Single best decision I made in my adult life was getting my M class license.



Anyway, with the light fading we took off to our hotel.  We had 75km to cover with about 90 minutes of light.  The first part was on dirt and mud roads in the jungle, with the last portion on paved asphalt.  Looks like we'll make it.  This was the jungle portion.



Warm, not too hilly, and with nearly 3 days of confidence-building off-road experience and a strong desire to get there before dark, we were cruising through the jungle.  But then...then we came across this.  What is that?  Some indigenous snake?  It is a rare breed called the "520 VX2".



Yup, that's right, my chain snapped.  Just when I was starting to forgive you, Ms. Husky, for yesterday's failure (I did consider being stranded in the moonlight my favorite moment).  Just when I thought we'd finally get to our hotel before dark.  Just when things were looking up.  A loud click, engine rev but no thrust, and then a reluctant look down at my rear wheel to confirm what I already knew.  Well, I'm sure there is an Advance Auto Parts around here...



Crap, 30+ minutes from any real businesses or civilization and we're out of luck.  But then, as quickly as the wind fell from out sails, it picked back up: Illinois brought a master link with him!  Can it be?  Oh god, I could kiss you, Illinois!  The inability to find neutral was a problem for feeding the chain through the front sprocket, but we got it done.  This was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen.  :'(



Maybe if we push it, we'll make it before dark or, if not, shortly after.  But I guess France's cursing the Italians while we put on the chain had karmic consequences because as we suited up, we noticed this.



Front tire completely flat on his bike.  Are you kidding me?!?!?  The bike gos have it out for us.  France had some tire sealant already in the tube and an electric pump, so we tried that fix.



While France tried to refill his tube, I killed the time exploring the jungle.  Hey, I never knew that bananas had such an aggressive "tail".  Looks like something from the Aliens movies.



I channelled Ansel Adams and took this picture.



(See, this is an Adams of an aspen tree.  Kinda similar.)



And I noticed this appropriately (or ironically?) placed sign.  It says: "happy travels, return soon".



With all the mechanical issues, things weren't that happy and we weren't going anywhere soon.  Actually, I lie: we were all happy more-or-less.  Nowhere to be and I think we each appreciated that troubles like this are what make the adventure, well, an adventure.  Except maybe France, who admitted that this was the most disastrous trip he's led.  Still, he was a laid back guy and once the tire was fixed, he laughed and was ready to lead on.  Oh, and for the record the tire sealant and pump didn't work.  We had to remove the wheel and replace the tube with a spare France carried.  

Eventually, our bikes were back at operational status and we continued on, having given up hope of arriving before dark.  We had a nice ride through the jungle and a not-so-nice ride on the highway.  Since most bikes in Ecuador are 250cc or smaller, they tend to hover on or near the shoulder and let cars and trucks pass.  So the Ecuadorians tended to just assume we were passable (all 5 of us together) and just raced by with a recklessness that made us a little uncomfortable at times.  But we all survived and eventually made it to dinner on the way to our hotel.

Quevede is know for having a notable Chinese population so, fittingly, we ate at a Chinese restaurant.  No joking, it was some of the best Chinese food I've ever eaten anywhere---and this coming from a guy who has lived in San Francisco and New York.  Everything was really really good.



After dinner we rode through the city to our hotel.  It was really hot and really humid, so you could tell we were no longer in the cool altitude of the mountains.  Luckily, my room had A/C and I turned it on full blast, laid out my gear to dry, and for the first time on my trip checked email on my phone via hotel wifi.  It was easy to forget the world I left behind.  But heavy limbs quickly spurred heavy eyes and I feel asleep to the spanish commentary on the Bull v Rockets game on tv.  One more day to go.

What I learned on Day 3:
- You meet the nicest people on the back of a motorcycle.
- If you put on rain gear it won't rain until you take it off.
- Always carry a master link.  Always.

[1.21GW]

Day 4: Quevedo to Pucayacu

Since we always arrived at night, I was getting used to the glory of opening my hotel curtains every morning to see the local environment for the first time.  It was always a nice way to start the day.  In Quevedo, I had this view:



Soccer stadium!  Quevedo is an actual city, not as large as Quito or Guayaquil, but a city nonetheless.  Whereas our previous overnight stays had all been in small towns and hamlets scattered throughout the mountains.  Guaranda (BBQ lunch on day 3) was the only other place we passed in our journey that felt like a city to me.  Well, Quevedo had traffic lights and buildings and hotels and shops and cars and gas stations and people doing normal city things.  We were in the flat lands west of the mountains, so the terrain offered no scenic backdrop and the weather was much more tropical than we had gotten used to.  Our hotel had a nice pool to cool off and sooth aching limbs, but with the steady rain and our early departure, that opportunity was passed over.  Pretty elaborate pool, though.  I'm not sure they had any build plans for it as much as impulsive ideas that probably came at 2am after a half dozen beers:

"Hey, let's put a cool-ass slide in."
"Nah, let's put two cool-ass slides."
"It needs a jungle gym."
"But where?"
"I dunno. Wherever."



After breakfast we suited up for the day's ride.  Illinois and Colorado had scheduled to rent the bikes for another couple days after the trip in order to explore the coast.  Given that Quevedo was about as near to the coast as we would get on our tour (~200 km), they elected to peel off and head west and would not be joining us on our ride back to Quito.  Here they are saying goodbye to France.  Goodbye, Illinois and Colorado, you were some of the coolest guys I've ever ridden with.  Here are two haikus for you:

Illinois
Tall, bearded, stout,
He rides through misty mountains
Fueled by coffee beans.

Colorado
When winter's shadow
casts on his door, he's departs
to seek the unknown.



Someone gave Colorado a smiley face to augur a prosperous journey.



And then there were three.  France, Atlanta, and I fueled up and headed across the flat urban landscape seeking our turnoff into the jungle, which would ultimately lead to what France said was the most challenging section of riding over the four days.  Given our history of step foggy muddy night riding, I shuttered to think what could be worse.  Anyway, we cruised along rainy asphalt through roadside towns until we came to our turnoff.  We paused for a snack and bathroom break.  This was one of our hosts.



Across the street they were selling rabbits.  Despite the large sign, when I peeked in I didn't see any.  Guess they were sold out.  For the record: the rabbits were for food, not pets, and so I should mention here that I never got a chance to try cuy (guinea pig) during my trip.  I'm a little disappointed but really the chance never came up and by the time I realized I needed to seek out some cuy, I was at the beach where it is not part of the local cuisine.  So I guess I'll have to wait until the next time I'm in Ecuador.  France said it tastes like a cross between rabbit and chicken.



This guy was riding up and down the street.  He had a loudspeaker attached to his truck which he used to sell fish.  This was a common site in some of the more populated towns, where someone in a truck would ride around announcing something or selling something.  I thought it was cool and pretty entrepreneurial.  If I weren't traveling on a bike, I'd have bought some.



Hydrated and with a few Manicho bars in my belly, we set off in the rain into the jungle.  The road was a popular route, and so much of it was wide and pretty developed, though not paved and with plenty of pot holes.  It was flat riding and then rain tapered off, so pretty easy stuff (geez, after 3 days I've gotten cocky about my skills!).  We had to stop to let a heard of cattle by.  I really wanted to snap a closeup of them (they basically were brushing against my bike) but by the time I got my camera out they had passed.  This was my only record of those beautiful bovine.



Eventually, we reached a town square that had a bustling market.  We were not in any hurry to get to Quito, so we decided to stop and explore.



The town is called Pucayacu and it has this market every Thursday.  If you are ever near, I recommend stopping by.  They had tons of bananas...



...and every other kind of fruit and vegetable...



...and racks upon racks of fresh meat...





I asked this guy and he confirmed that that cow head was fresh from a morning kill.  To me, it kinda looks like the cow is still alive and pretending that this isn't happening to him.  "Please let me wake up in me bed.  Please let me wake up in my bed."



They also had looks of cooked food for sale.  This women was making corn-based pancake thingies.  They were pretty good, but I know they'd be amazing with some type of creamy sauce to dip them in.  I need to carry ranch with me on my next trip.



France recommended that we try a seafood soup that is popular near the coast, so we sat down and ordered two bowls.  I actually was not hungry at all, so Atlanta and I shared a bowl.  However, the soup was so good we finished it rather quickly and I wished I had ordered my own separate bowl.  It had shrimp and calamari and other goodies.  It was hearty but not heavy.  And while really good by itself, when I dumped that bag of plantain chips over it, it was heavenly.



This little girl was the daughter of the soup lady.  She was initially very shy.  I gave her some buttons I brought with me---they had cartoons of dogs and princesses and wrestlers and the like.  She coyly took them and then 5 minutes later had put them on her shirt and was showing them off to me.  I also bought some miniature model plane kits (you fold thin metal pieces with tabs to create "The Spirt of St. Louis" and P-51s and such) and gave them to some teens in Angamarca.  The idea was suggested to me by a friend who spent a month in rural Mongolia---she brought stickers and the kids loved them and stuck them on everything.  I think traveling with little knick-knacks is a good idea and helps you interact with the community and generally leaves a positive impression, so while this was my first time doing it, I will continue the practice in the future.  Anyway, here she is goofing around in the back of a truck.



The market was a happening place and everyone was active buying, selling, cooking, eating, or just hanging with the family.



Full on food and culture, we set off for the hard ride that France warned us about earlier in the day.  Pft, bring it on!

[1.21GW]

Day 4: Pucayacu to Quito

The final stretch was long in km but brief in pictures since we didn't stop much.  It was great riding through a wide range of terrains and surfaces, kinda like a "best of" album for the trip, with (nearly_ all the terrains and surfaces upon which we had ridden over the previous 3.5 days.  (Oh my god, was it only three-and-a-half days?!  It truly seemed like we had been gone for weeks.)

Let me pause here for a second to show you the newest Italian motorcycle supermodel.  It's not easy to read in the photo, but this is a Lamborbini.  Ha!  I love it!  Likely a Chinese or other east-Asian manufacturer that didn't even bother with trying to come up with a cool Italian sounding name.  Just steal an existing name; I love the boldness.  (For the record, I'm not knocking the Chinese---when you have a growing business, you do what you can to market your product!)  France told me that there is also some brand that is a variation on Ferrari, like Ferrani or something.  Anyhoo, this Lamborbini is for sale, in case anyone is in the market for what no doubt is an untameable Italian enduro beast:



So our next 45 minutes was a jungle ride.  Not sure if "jungle" or "forest" is more appropriate, but whatever, you be the judge.  Where does that road lead?  No idea, but no doubt somewhere twisty and beautiful.



The scenery reminded me of hilly forest areas in western PA or even western VA or WV, but the foliage was of course different and little more dense.  Long grass, wooden fences encompassing fields of horses a few roadside pigs, one story homes or make shift shacks set back from the road on a small hill or mound, the occasional local walking alone on the edge of the road lugging something back home.  It was all very pastoral yet vibrant.  There were rivers carving through the hills and we crossed over one of them a few times.





Sometimes, you just gotta get that perfect shot.  Here is France lining up another glamour shot of his bike against the natural landscape.



We stopped at a school to say hi and France gave out pencils, erasers, stickers, candy and the like to the kids.  That's the school in the background.  This is an old stump fence in the foreground that was common along this stretch of the ride.



After stopping at the school we began the hard portion of riding that France mentioned.  Was it indeed the hardest of the trip?  Well, yes and no.  Yes, in that it was a steep and at times very steep uphill climb with lots of switchbacks on a brutal surface of rocks---not gravel---that my rear wheel frequently lost grip on.  It required boldness not caution.  So, yeah, from a raw surface perspective that was the hardest.  Buuuuuttttt, it was daytime, relatively dry, the road was a decent width in most sections, and although it got foggy as we ascended through the cloud layer, visibility remained functional.  So, no, it wasn't the hardest given all other conditions---that belonged to the 3-hour Sisyphean night climb at the end of day 2.



Once we crested the mountain, we began our descent into yet another gorgeous Ecuadorian valley.  This is Gorgeous Valley #324 of our trip.



Wait for it...just let the clouds pass...wait...



...there we go!  I decided to take a picture of flowers to commemorate the prettiness of all this pretty going on.



Once descended, we rolled off dirt for the last time and hit some of the best twisties I've ever ridden.  The pavement wasn't perfect, so I had to be alert coming around blind corners that there wasn't any pothole or spilled gravel, but it was fun fun fun to toss the bike back and forth through chicane after chicane.  We then rode through a flatter, more open area and ultimately merged onto a real, honest-to-god, 4-lane highway.  Since I wasn't wearing my rain pants, nature got one last laugh and dumped buckets of water on us for about 15 minutes.  Then it cleared up as we reached our lunch destination.



Cafe de la Vaca.  For those that don't speak Spanish: in case it isn't obvious, vaca means...wait, what does it mean?  Hmmmm...



...wait, it's on the tip of my tongue.  If only I had a hint to jar my memory...



...oh, right, "pig"!  No, wait, "cow"!  This place had offered all kinds of delicious meat (and other) dishes.  And they weren't shy about their offering: translation of the sign: "Welcome to the best experience of your life".  Wow.  Pretty bold claim.  So did it live up to the billing?  Well, not quite, but I'll give it a 9/10 in the "best experience of my life" category.  The steak and eggs I had was too die for: tend, juicy, full of flavor, and the eggs tasted fresh as can be.  Like the seafood soup earlier in the day I found myself eating more than my level of hunger required simple because everything tasted so good.  Oh, and I had one of these.



A hot chocolate with cheese.  Yup, those aren't marshmallows, they're cheese.  But mild cheese, so they didn't overpower the chocolate and basically served the same function as marshmallows.  I suggest giving it a try, except I don't know exactly what kind of cheese it was.  Something tells me the Kraft pepper jack I buy at Ralph's wouldn't work.

In addition to good food, the place offered epic scenery to help create a "best experience".  We had a green and blue hummingbird right outside the window that could only be described as luminescent.  It kinda just glowed in the daylight.  Here again my black and white photos fail, but I am proud my shutter speed was fast enough to catch the little bugger mid-flight!



I pulled this color pic off of the internet.  See?  Luminescent.



The restaurant also have epic views of Cotopaxi, one of the other major volcanoes in Ecuador with a peak at 19,347' (5,897m).  Unfortunately, its cap was obscured by clouds.



Relaxed, full, and, at least for me, lamenting the impending end of the journey, we saddled up for what was a smooth ride through Quito back to Ecuador Freedom Bike.  It was sunny and beautiful and I smiled the whole way.

We arrived around 5p and I had a 7p flight, so unfortunately I couldn't hang and reminisce.  But I was greeted with a beer, I moved my gear from stuffed in my dry bag to stuffed in my suitcase, and said my thanks yous and farewells.  I wanted to get someone to take a shot of me with France, by time got away and I had to book it to the airport.

Dirty, smelly, and with a unending grin on my face, I scared probably everyone at the airport.



The lack of color makes the comparison hard, but my gear was much changed since I sat in George Bush Int'l Airport and took this 5 days earlier.  My Klim jacket was a nice gray---it is now permanently a desert brown.



It was a hell of a trip and definitely one of if not the mejor experiencia de mi vida.  I now have the DS bug and am in the market for a DR650.  God, just when my Monster was nearly all modded the way I want, I find something else to sink money into.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the report.  I highly recommend both Ecuador and EFB.

[duccarlos]

One of my greatest regrets as I left LatAm was not taking a trip like this. I didn't have the bike for any DS action, but there's something empowering about going on roads less traveled. The pictures and the stories were truly entertaining.

[1.21GW]

One of my greatest regrets as I left LatAm was not taking a trip like this. I didn't have the bike for any DS action, but there's something empowering about going on roads less traveled. The pictures and the stories were truly entertaining.

I have it from a reliable source that Ecuador (and for that matter, all of Latin America) is in fact not going anywhere, so it's ready and available for such a trip in the future when the time is right. 



Now, cue Grampa to jump in and prove me technically wrong because Latin America is in fact going somewhere at 2 inches/year, or whatever. 

[ducpainter]

I have it from a reliable source that Ecuador (and for that matter, all of Latin America) is in fact not going anywhere, so it's ready and available for such a trip in the future when the time is right. 



Now, cue Grampa to jump in and prove me technically wrong because Latin America is in fact going somewhere at 2 inches/year, or whatever. 

Nice report...really nice.

...and for the record...the entire planet is going to hell in a hand basket.

[SpikeC]

Thanks for a great escape!

[koko64]

Thanks. Great write up. Really enjoyable.
Your respect for people, their enviroment and culture, and your eyes to see the little things about their lives really added something special.
Cheers.

[He Man]

ha! its was cool to see some places ive been to as well. not on a bike, but still!

That looked like some good riding though! Hope your finger wasn't messed up too bad for the ride!