Some final thoughts:

First, I thought I would share some squiggly amp data. First, the track as SPOT saw us.


Now, convert that data and look at this graph. I love the fact that there are such extreme elevation changes in Ecuador. Not quite as dramatic as last time we rode, but this time we went from sea level to 14000 ft in about 60 miles. So for every mile, we gained 200 feet in elevation!


The other thing I wanted to highlight, was the Dogs of Ecuador. I teased Blaster that next time I will take a photo of every.single.dog. I think that might take me a whole year to repeat this same track



His cows sleeps, he sleeps!




You know to look before you cross the road


Always walk in against traffic


Sometimes you taunt death


You somehow survive on desolate country roads


You walk down the sidewalks


You inspect all comers




When you wake up, you calmly sit on the sidewalk as the "parade" goes by


This might have been the skinniest one we saw


When possible, you hang outside the eateries


Life may be rough, but alas, at least you've never been expected to carry more than your own weight


The weather is nice year round though


You marvel at humans and their trinkets


Occasionally, you find yourself "living the good life", but yet bound by shackles


Raise a toast to all the Ecuador canine brethren. Share the last morsels of the doggie bag

Science has studied the brains of squirrels quite intensively. In fact, the part of the brain that remembers cache locations for acorn nuts is apparently over-developed for the size of the animal. A grey squirrel's memory for cache locations allows an average retrieval rate of 60%. Of course, that means that 40% is never recovered and likely to become a sapling next year.

When we returned the bikes, it was somewhat like a mad dash to pack out luggage and retreat to the hotel for a nice relaxing evening. We had segregated out "really stinky" kit from the "somewhat stinky" kit. This meant that boots, jackets and riding pants were all in a suitcase together. I have often noticed that TSA "helps" themselves to small things of interest from my suitcase while in their control, but overall, I guess that part of the redistribution plan of life.

A few weeks went by before I switched from my winter riding jacket to the jacket I took to Ecuador. As I put it on, I was thudded on the chest by this bohemia. Curious to know what box of rocks this might be, I opened one of my interior pockets to find this:


Look at this new found fortune--My heart flutters on if I even need to go to work today. Alas, it amounts to no more than $37 in one-dollar bills which had been wet, then dried (maybe more than once) into this nice 3" fatty of a brick. I guess not even TSA dared to enter the lair of the dirty riding boots to "redistribute" this wad of cash for me. Apparently, I am no better than a squirrel in remembering where I cache important items.

The old addage is true; once you have been to Ecuador, you will return to your life a changed person.

Day 10

We bid farewell to Mama Hildas


As a female rider, I am always skeptical of public bathrooms. However, I am simply amazed, if not simply giddy, how clean every public bathroom has been in the this country! I guess when make people pack in their own TP, there is no need to strew it across the floor nor any reason to make the toilet backup with a huge ball of it. However, I've never had to contemplate if I would enter a bathroom full of cocks before!


As a dualsporter, it's a bit sad to see all the road construction. I like this pile of grading doesn't even warrant a single sign. Boy would that be rude to bury a front tire into at speed, thus reason #2,000,432 to NEVER ride at night around here


The last run through the mountains





It's St. Valentines day, somehow Bruce is oblivious to that fact until we notice the line at restaurant is out the door for Sunday brunch. We have nothing but time, so the wait for this grub was well worth it.


Soon enough, it's time to return the bikes to their rightful owners.

When it's not raining, Ecuador can create the most magnificent backdrop of giant heads of white and fluffy cauliflower (Cumulus Cloud Cover)


Keith and I enjoyed the frolic down the Quilotoa Loop so very much that we wanted another run at it. About an hour later and reran the last 20 miles or so again!




A friend once told a wild story about hitting a horse in Colombia, cartwheeling the bike, breaking some ribs then riding the totaled bike back to the states. I often wonder how bad you luck had to be for that to occur? As it turns out, it might be WAY easier than you think when you walk your cows downs the road with loose ropes....


Remember when we ordered chicken the other night and a few minutes later a man with a live chicken comes through the restaurant door? Guess what on the menu tonight...

Kellie mentioned that the man made small work of dressing out this pig. In fact, he was done "tip to tail" (pun intended!) in about 20 minutes. Furthermore his cuts were so precise, that Kellie would even offer to let him do some plastic surgery on her!


Home Sweet Home for night 9--Mama Hilda's!


Iconic manicured landscaping


This is one heck of a "Welcome Shingle"


The hospitality is second to none here. The inn keeper had such a warm personality, and really wanted to ensure we felt welcome


While I was watching hummingbirds suck nectar off these trumpet flowers,


Blaster found all that he needed!


And Keith couldn't believe his good fortune to find another hammock. He didn't even get off his stinky 'ol riding boots before partaking.


This brown bird in the center of the photo is a bit too big to be hummingbird (I think?), but he enjoys sucking nectar too.


Our room has 4 bunks upstairs (and another inside hammock)




Some new construction since we last were here in Nov 14. Brilliant reuse of glass wine bottles

The next morning (day 9), is filled with a bit of mixed emotions. On one hand, we had a full adventure and everyone has now recovered from the food poisoning. On the other hand, there is not much track before us. Actually, if we just slabbed, we could be back to Quito in 3 hours.

Any idea how to get one this doo-dads onto a bike?




On the east coast, they have this penchant for naming squiggly roads after a lizard or a reptile. Some examples are "The Tail of the Dragon", "The Back of the Dragon" or the "The Snake". I've usually found those types of roads to be overhyped and overcrowded, with much tastier roads to be found in the surrounding area without the "iconic" names.


In Ecuador, I assure you that you probably don't have that many cutesy names for them all!




Blaster decided Mama dog could use a few extra calories. So, he breaks out a slim jim for her.


We end up stopping about another 100 yards down the road. Look who's back for a more grub. Turns out to be a good move for her, a jerky stick and Cliff bar later, she has consumed more calories today than the last week.


I feel like it's becoming ground hog day. We land on another market day!






The mighty DR200 is mostly mighty at 30-40 mph traveling on a gravel road. On a newly paved road which has huge elevations changes, she is a bit underwhelming. But nobody to blame but my short stature. Alas, she fits my 28" just fine. But I have to give it to her, she's propped up looking the part of awesone next to this lake.




Here Kellie is contemplating the 2 hour walk down to crater..and another 2 hrs back up.

Not even one month after we leave, lookie what our majestic Volcano, Tungurahua, is doing!

Keith is much like one of those wind up tops. It takes a lot to load his spring, but once is loaded it spins constantly. Then, it usually spins hard until it flops. Well, not content with just seeing Banos, he's got a hankering for a ride. So he pops open his Lonely Planet book and find this tasty ride:

Waterfall Route from Baños to Puyo


I suppose that his intended transportation of a moto is better than a bicycle.
Map of falls





Suspending my life over a ravine on an itsy bity cable, I don't know if this should be the safety mechanism?



I never understood why people go to flat topography places like Florida to zip line. A place like Ecuador is made for this where there is no shortage of gravity!









Notice the bridge? Keith should hop right off that bike of his, and hike WAY.DOWN.THERE. It's likely not a minute over 30 mins on foot


The Frank Lloyd Wright house, Falling Water, has nothing on this house!




A room with a donkey. Seriously, it gets to wake up to that view every morning?

Banos is a interesting place to say the least. And we've got a full day to trot around.

First, Blaster was impressed that these gun toters were around. They weren't guarding a bank or anything of perceived western importance, rather a common grocery store!


My guess is this is what happened to the last people that took their pictures (These are really Guinea Pigs)


Your Maytag washing machine is no where nearly reliable as this Volcano spring fed washing trough!




Each wash basin has it's own supply port and exit port


Who needs Hollywood?


Here we have Keith reenacting his version of Dr Suess' Truffula Tree




I can't think of a more hygienic way to make food than a rusty 16 penny nail and two hands.

Uber talented artist abound.






I guess everyone finds their own sort of faith through life.




I've been schooled pretty hard recently on ride reports. First, I learned that a ride report isn't necessary. Just go back an ride the really great rides again. Secondly, I was told that a ride report narrative should last until the next ride starts. What is a girl to do?

Kellie unfolds herself from the truck. She's slept the last 5.5 hrs, but it's probably done her body good. She's also now amiable to taking the Z-pack and within 12 hours, it will prove to a good decision. We will also find out the following day that she doesn't recollect talking to us at lunch the previous day, and that she only thought she slept for 1 hr or so in the truck. Perhaps the best $100 spent on this trip. Had she pushed much more I think we'd end up picking up little itsy bitsy pieces, and that's never a pleasant task for anyone.

Tomorrow is day 8, another rest day! Banos here we come. The word Banos means "Bath" and seeing that word everywhere sort of becomes a subliminal message. We are attracted the public hot springs like a bug is to a light. The hot springs are heated from the active volcano, Tungurahua, which has been in an eruptive state since 1999.



Every Ecuadorian within 50 miles has descended on this place. As I peer from the street, all I see is water so opague you can't possible see the bottom of the pool. The irony runs deep about now. My riding gear could probably stand up on it's own from all the road girt and grime, and yet somehow, I perceive these people as more dirty than I. Heck, Blaster and I have taken to locking the riding boots in the bathroom so the smell of funk doesn't permeate the room at night. Yet, we've been watching the kids head off to school in their Catholic plaid uniforms, with whites so crisp that it would make a Polar bear cub look dirty.

First we enter the baths, and have three choices. Either produce a hair cap, buy a hair cap for a $1.5 or rent a hair cap for $0.50. Having plumb not packed a hair cap, we indulge and buy a hair cap. The pools have no filters anyhow, they are just flushed and refilled 2X daily. And the pools are too crowded and shallow to really swim in anyhow, so the hair cap requirement is a bit of musing for us. Nonetheless, it is draconically enforced.

We enter the baths and there are 3 pools--a cold water, a warm and a Jacuzzi hot one.

Despite the relative chaos of the place, it's filled with rules, rules and more rules. It's unfortunate for us that we will learn them one by one as the pool guards correct us at every turn. The first problem we encounter is that you cannot leave anything on the deck, except shoes in the cubby holes. I can't decide if it's more problematic to leave my wallet in my check bag or to risk it on the pool deck with my flip flops. Soon enough, we've popped into our swim gear. I feel like a superstar as my swim gear passes muster. Keith, however, will need to rent a swimsuit. His cotton material is decried as not suitable for such a fine establishment. He returns a short while later with a pair of lycra rental trunks. Boy, to think of the cross section of Ecuadorian DNA that might be in those; Science is neat!

As I glance across the malay, I feel a bit like Goldie Locks and the 3 bears. The first pool hasn't nary a person in it. And there is good reason for that--it's about 50F. The second pool in the yard, and the largest and the most enjoyable temperature, is completely infested. Infested in the sense that every little kid is being suspended by a parent in there. I have no idea if there are chlorinating this mess or not, but I am convinced there is no cure for that much kiddie urine. The last pool, while a bit steamy, only allows adults. The pool is only about 2.5 feet deep, but feels like a nice hot Jacuzzi. For some reason unknown to me, an Ecuadorian woman goes doggie paddling by in the hot Jacuzzi. I have no idea why she is trying to swim, she could easily just stand up and wade but she reminds me much like the puppy being raised by adoptive Gorillas. She just doesn't look to be in her natural environment.

At this point, I drop my ache body in the hot spring. Remember the water is a opaque, apparently from the volcanic mineral mix which is suppose to cure what ails me. The establishment even goes so far as to placard the mineral content of the holistic 'healing' water. Somehow I take solace in knowing that that mineral content of hexavalent chromium is contained at 0.01%. I have no idea what a safe concentration might be (or if there is one for something on toxic as that), however, all I can recollect is that is the same chemical from that made the PG&E electric scandal (Erin Brockovich movie). We long over stay the recommended 5 minutes in the hot spring. Soon enough, time to leave and see what else town has to offer.

We leave behind these bucolic views


But fortunately, we are also leaving this critter behind with all that lushness


Out of the banana fields


Who knew your banana lived it's entire life inside a plastic bag. Isn't every bag stamped with "caution: may cause suffocation"?


As we ascend to the Chimborzao Wildlife Reserve, the temperature plummets. We stop at this first "town", to put on more layers and the wind takes off with Blaster's Klim Jacket that has full armor!


The hut looks to be the most sturdy structure around this wind


We are riding about 14,500 ft. We might be in Wyoming looking at this landscape?




These are Vicuna. Yep, relatives of Camels and Llamas.


It's pretty foggy on the top of the range. We pass right by Chimborazo (20564 ft) whose claim to fame is that since it sits so close to the equatorial bulge, the summit is the furthest point from Earth's center.

We arrive around 1700 to Banos and the Hotel Posada del Arte for the next two days. About 30 mins later, Kellie's chariot arrives.

I was so happy to locate purple Gatorade while in Vinces. So happy in fact, I bought 6 qts! It's certainly not trivial to pack that much liquid on a bike in glass bottles! While one can argue the merits of Gatorade as an electrolyte, the hydration was a pivotal point in my food poisoning recovery. Kellie has taken a different approach--she wants to allow it to "cleanse".

By the next morning (Day 7), I've perked up enough to enjoy the off-road track that is before us. However, the first stop we make is here. Crazy thing about Ecuador if you have $2 you can buy a Z-pack over the counter. That is assuming you can find yourself a pharmacy big enough to stock it. Last time, I bought bandaids. You don't even buy the entire box, just as many pills as you need.



Keith has offered Kellie 2 options stay at the Senor de los Cabllalos hotel for another day and recuperate or head to Banos via tarmac. However, Kellie wants to stay with the group and opts for the tough off-road track.

Into the Fog


Waterfalls


By mid morning break, it's clear to us that Kellie is deteriorating health wise.


Time to break out the laminated map and find a straight tarmac track to Banos.




I believe this hill is too steep to cultivate by tractor (Notice the slope relative to white car parked about the 9o'clock position). I am also convinced if it was America, despite the incredible urge to eat, we would starve before cultivating by hand like these Ecuadorians are doing.


We find a nice place for lunch. 3 of us get off the bikes and settle in and order. Kellie decides she'd rather sit outside. About 20 mins later, Bruce pops his head around the corner. He reports that she hasn't died, because her arm flinched. We go to check on her, and she's wedged her body in a concrete corner of the awning. As she tries to stand up from a fetal position, it's obvious that she won't be riding the rest of the day as she can't even balance standing on her feet.

We have two options--find her a hotel in this little town or hire a truck to bring her (and possibly her bike) to Banos. The Banos option is preferable as it's still not clear if she'll need advance medical care and Banos has a huge Expat community. It's about 100Kms and 5.5 hrs to Banos. Funny what a $100 can buy you, as the restaurant owner is happy to take on the work in his late model truck. Alternatively, there are Toytota Hilux trucks with a green stripe on them. These are delivery trucks which run all around the country which you can hire.

Blaster bee-lines for the hotel, as he's still not quite made the turn for the better with the food poisoning. Unfortunately for me and Kellie, we still haven't made it to midpoint down yet. Our last stop on day 7 is the quaint little town of Vinces. Hard to imagine this town has a French heritage?






It's off to the Senor de los Cabllalos hotel for the evening.










It's also a working chocolate plantation, so why not get a tour? This would be a GREAT place to ride bikes


I normally see the Cacao pods which are burgundy color. It makes sense, the ripe ones have been harvested!


Apparently, they not ripe until they get a golden color to it. I think this guy could do plastic surgery with a machete. He artfully opens the pod.


When the pod is ripe, the beans easily separates from the pod.


The beans have a sweet fleshy white covering, then the center is the tart coco.


With that our guide grabs this harvest basket, and starts making short work of this little project


An ode to all the pods that once lived..


The trees take about 5 years to mature to made pods. They only produce for about 25 years. Once they are end of production, the main truck is macheted off. Then a sapling grows from the stump.


The seeds are then fermented for 3 days. Then dried




Who doesn't love pure cacao?


Many folks might not know, but the Cacao plants only grow with +10 to -10 latitudes. This means a very narrow strip of earth. Ecuador cacao (the Nationale) is preferred by swiss chocolatiers. The other main countries for Cacao trees is West Africa. Many sources indicate that the trees are coming end of life and will create a world wide shortage.

As we have every day for the last 6 days, we have sustenance before we head out. Last night has been a rough night. Kellie/Blaster and I have been driving the old porcelain bus. Before we left the states, the international doctor had given us a 3-day 500Mg Z-pack (Arithromycin). The instructions were, if you get food poisoning, start taking them immediately. We thought the odds that both Blaster and I got sick were pretty low, so we only took one box. Blaster is markedly worse than I, so he starts them. However in the days to come, it's Kellie that will see the worst brunt of this.


It's still bloody hot out, and when we see this shade tree mid morning, it seems like a nice enough place for a break. While we haven't past a handful of vehicles all day, imagine our surprise when all the locals descend on us. I guess to them, we are much like a bacteria growing in a petri dish. They watch us with intent interest. I sigh that although Blaster made a gallant effort to learn Spanish, level 1 Rosetta stone is not quite "conversational" level yet. Such a shame, because I am sure they would certainly add some color to out trips.




We were warned twice by Court not to take this road leaving town if it had been raining. But you know that wasn't good enough for us. The 20 miles hardpack gravel gives way to this sticky mud only 2 miles from the tarmac. Just 2 miles.


As if we didn't get schooled enough in 2012 on sticky mud, we know the 2 miles like this is going to end up poorly. If it ends at all.


Why is it that you follow a trail with the thought "I will just turn around if it gets too bad" philosophy? Then when you do turn around, it only proves to be 2X harder than when you went in?


As long as the front tire is tracking, who cares where the butt of the bike is...


We circle back to this "improved" road. There must have been at least a dozen of these arroyos. Notice the villager collecting water in a yellow bucket?

Remember, you building exterior color should always match you foliage choices!


We arrive at Santa Marianita for lunch. We've been getting a bit "bold" and today for some wild reason we decide to totally let our inhibitions about foreign food go. Wow, what a turning point that one little thought will have on the remainder of the trip. And actually for the next 3 weeks of my life. Here we see the Husky in her beachbum kit.



It's still Mardi Gras, and the beach is crawling with life. It's here we realize that Ecuadorians don't swim for the most part. Nobody dares to enter the South Pacific more than knee deep.


So there are 4 riders in our group. Somehow the 3 youngest riders end up with terrible Montezuma's Revenge after we partake in this local favorite. It's called 'Cazuelas' which is a seafood casserole mixed in plantains and peanut. It's so thick that you could put a fork into it, and have no trouble getting it to stand vertically. The texture is not far off that either. I didn't care for the texture, so I took the little kid approach and just ate out what I thought was the good part (seafood). Keith thought the Cazuelas would be better if we centrifuged out the seafood from the peanut/plantains.

Nonetheless, in 12 hours our lives would change.


After lunch, we pull into the Puerto de Cayo Sanctuary very early afternoon. Observations show that no hurricanes form within 5 degrees latitude of the equator, as they can't overcome the Coriolis effect.



If this hotel was any closer to the South Pacific, we'd need scuba kit.


Nothing left to do but float the afternoon away.


Blaster is much a chameleon. He likes to pick colors in his background to blend with


Keith meanwhile tries out the hammock life

We mount up early the next day, even though there isn't much to see along the way and not much track to cover. But the last 24 hours of rest have done Kellie a world of good and she's licked her wounds sustained from the $20 hill. In fact, she's feeling a bit cheeky


We hug the South Pacific to beautiful vistas


And then comes this first big town. These people stop their car to jump on our bikes.


Having a whale of a time today


And we find ourselves on the wrong side of the "law man" again. Since it's the day after a major holiday, mandatory road check points are in full force. After we dig all of our bikes registration papers out from the bottom caverns of the panniers, we have some time for these happy snaps!




We head into Manta. Manta is known for fishing, and thus the wooden boat repair yard




Who doesn't love a free meal of fish guts?


This Labrador came to fish market with a basket. I guess this is the Doggie version of a "Doggie Bag" for leftover food?


Never thought to make a wheelbarrow entirely from wood, including the wheel!


There were some boats nearly done




But mostly boats that were nowhere near done








Finished Ribs






Interesting how the stock ribbing material is already curved. On smaller boats, they used the tree root ball as it was the strongest for ribbing and it had a natural curve. These look too big for a root, but who knows?


Why is it when you hear a chainsaw, you automatically think Freddie Kruger from Nightmare on Elm Street horror film is chasing you?

We may reign the wooden boat world, but we don't care about electrical codes! Indoor sockets anyone?

Today marks the half way mark in the trip. It is the easternmost point, it's day 5 of 10, and we've also lost 30% of the cameras in the fleet.

Camera one was a Cannon Coolpix. Kellie arrived in Quito 2 days before we picked up the bikes. She was listening to a band play in a village square, when she put it down as the sun was glaring in her eyes. Shortly after, two teenage females came up to her and asked random questions. A few minutes later she realized that it was a bait and switch and one was distracting her as the other stole the camera!

People 1, Cameras 0

Then on night 2, I had put my micro 4/3rds camera in a plastic bag as we had been riding in the rain for the afternoon. I usually unload it last, but I was in a hurry to unpack the bike and get dry. So I put the camera on top of my saddle bags and lifted what I thought was everything. Just like holding a rubber water weenie, it rocket-shiped to earth. Much like the side of bread that you butter ends dirt side down, the camera hits a perfert 45 degree angle. My beloved 80-300mm lens is smashed. Well, the lens is fine, but the plastic ring that mates to the camera body has shattered. There goes $300.



People 2, Cameras 0

Lastly, Keith had the good intention to mount is iPhone 6 to the KLR handlebars for quick pics. If you have ever ridden a KLR, you might not describe the resulting engine vibes as "smooth" from the thumper cylinder design. Add in some Incan period cobblestone roads, and I think you have all the image stabilizer on a iPhone 6 can handle. The pictures go blurrier and blurrier until it plain poops out only 1/2 an image. Keith is able google "iPhone reset procedure", but my gut tells me this is more of a systemic issue. For the record, I didn't find a comparable pages for fixing a droid

People 3, Cameras 0

In the days of the Vikings and wooden ships, men whom couldn't swim were often recruited as sailors for trans-Atlantic journeys. It was believed that if you couldn't swim you'd be more apt to preserve the ship at all cost versus saving yourself by swimming ashore. Greg, the proprietor of Canoa Beach Resort, drove his VW bus all the way to Panama from the US. His wanderlust got the better of him, as he had intended to drive the bus all the way to South America. With the exception of the pesky 99 miles of the Pan American Highway affectionately known as the Darien Gap, he would have easily accomplished that mission. After languishing for a few weeks trying to figure it out how to get his trusty VW bus to the next continent, he ends up just giving it away (since it wasn't legally imported, he can't sell it).

Luckily, he goes for drink at the local marina to drown his sorrows. At that time, he is introduced on the phone to a Yacht owner looking for deck hands on a southern voyage. He's told to return the following day to meet in person. Most marinas charge a day fee to dock based on length of the vessel, so for the most part, folks just anchor the Yachts in the bay and come in via dingy on the days needed. As a rookie deck hand, Greg ponders all night what questions the Yacht own might ask the next day during his vetting process. He's convinced himself that there is nothing more important that proving he's not going to be a liability as he's an excellent swimmer. With that, he rendezvous the next day at the Marina with absolutely nothing other swim trunks. Imagine his surprise when the Yacht owner comes up to the Marina in the dingy, and asks Greg to spot him the $5 docking fee. To which Greg only has his swim trunks, and no wallet. The Yacht owner is bit weary now that the potential deck hand doesn't even have $5 to his name. And how to explain this logic and not sound daft?

All is well that ends well, and Greg and his buddy are hired. The Yacht has some mechanical issues and it takes about 5 months to land in Ecuador. When Greg finally gets back to land, he had intended to participate in a paragliding (?)contest.


However, he's missed it due to the mechanical delay. He also doesn't intend to stay long term in Ecuador but his pent-up manhood gets the best of him. Somewhat unplanned, 9 months later, a little mini-Greg enters the world and Greg finds himself as an American Expat hotel manager.


Today is our first day off riding, and the ocean is angry today. And the storm is suppose to brew all day--the wind is howling and the rain is persistent.


The attack crabs are even on patrol. This one was on my door stoop.

While Canoa might be a good place to get out and see, given the crappy weather I think it's good to find a place to read and just soak up relaxing. Tomorrow, we have another day on the Southern Pacific before we head back to coolness of the Andes mountains.

As we continue to the coast, the mercury continues to rise. Uncomfortably so. In fact, the afternoon rainstorm is a welcome relief.



We decide to take the final detour and take the shortcut dirt road through Jama. Jama is home to many shrimp farms. I don't know what a shrimp farm should look like, but what we see is utterly underwhelming. In fact, you could say these were cranberry bogs or rice patties. I didn't see a single shrimp. I didn't see any "farming" going on. Just miles and miles of manmade ponds, I suppose to trap those little pink delights. Somehow, nary a single photo op.

We pull into Canoa Beach Hotel and they promptly greet us. If by greet us, you mean provide Kellie a curbside Mojoito!


Remember, when boiling a human, use lots of seasoning and do not singe the fur!






Now as the clock steals the final hour, Kelly is the first to retire to bed. Unbeknownst to the others, the 3 mojoitos have done little to dull her achy bones, which have largely not see this type of abuse since been boot camp days a few decades earlier. It's somewhere around 1930, but yet Kelly exclaims How remarkably late it must be. Surely she justs, but with an awkward smile she solders on. Today's ride while perhaps the tamest, has exacted a toll from her. Frankly, the adrenaline reserves are trading about as high as a barrel of crude oil (which is a price not seen since the previous century).

We depart Laguna, and boy have we worked up an appetite! In about 40 Kms, we arrive at a stupid cute suspension bridge, and low and behold, the handlebars fit. Let's ride!









We approach the lunch stop, but the gate is closed and locked. As I rummage through the tank bag to double check the name and Blaster is taking happy snaps of Kellie and Keith....the gate is opened. I think how incredibly lucky this is!


How's this for super cute décor?



We have a pretty big language barrier, but we manage to figure out they only opened the gate because they recognized the Freedom bikes. Ah, we are a "friend of Court's". It's not terribly uncommon to not get menu, and not really know the pricing before we eat. Imagine our surprise when yesterday the lunch meal for four people was $13.50. Today, it's $80! Some "buddy" discount we got.

However, the food was absolutely scrumptious, so it's hard to feel bad for parting with some cash.



We are going to spend the next 3 days on the South Pacific. It's clear that meal pricing is going to be spendy than in the Andes, and somehow WiFi is abundant, yet VISA machines are not. Even more quizzical, ATMs are far and few between. We decide to hit Pedernales for an ATM, as it's the last one for 150KMs!

Since it's Sunday we try 4 different ATMs that Garmin said exist. They were either inside the bank or Garmin is a liar. We finally find one and it will only take ATMs cards that have the chip on them. Great. I would love to cash advance against my credit card ($). The next day, I count my money and realize that it's short $20. I sigh that the ATM screwed up. Nope Keith was shorted $20 too....I guess that an ATM fee? So, pretty much I paid 25% in ATM fees/cash advance fees to get some cash (which apparently I didn't end up really needing anyhow).

A life lesson in there somewhere.

I have my nose stuck pretty far up my GPS' butt, as we depart the ATM. We are going to cross the Equator again, so I am counting down to Latitude 0! I don't know what I expecting to mark the equator, but Blaster and I both passed this Billboard...


Pretty quick we realize our mistake and make a Ubee. Kellie and Keith are good sports to follow us, but after we double park the bikes on the side of the road, they refuse to get off. It takes some coaxing to convince them we are on equator again!

Northern Hemisphere


Southern Hemisphere

Since it's approaching the all famous Mardi Gras, and it's now Sunday, we pass by many families hiking into Laguna Azul. We think how fortuitous that we were able to enjoy this wonderland all to ourselves, if even for only an hour. Kellie has adopted a rather inventive strategy from being Silly Stringed in the face. Maybe they will take mercy on her if she parades around in a dunce hat? (this is the "bark" of a bamboo shoot)


Meanwhile, my Silly string avoidance strategy is much like an landing aircraft throws out chaff. I convince them to spray Keith while I take pics. This plan is almost flawless until they then fire on the photog as a "good measure"


Meanwhile, Blaster has decided to stay back at the parking lot. Having a $50K ankle at this point, a hike like this probably isn't what his vacation needs on the 3rd day of 10. He, however, has also found food and entertainment

We leave the day 2 hostel behind, and everyone is well rested. It's a good thing too because boy have we've been sold a bill of goods. Blaster and I have confirmed that we are mostly Adventure Riders, and not really Adventure hikers. Last time(in 2014), we parked the bikes and hiked for 1/2 hour it was much longer than 1/2 hour. It seems that pudgy American's aren't swift hikers.

In October 1953 the B36 bomber (one of the largest military aircraft ever) was on its way to the US from the Azores. It was navigating by sight, and flying low to avoid radar detection. It was supposed to come in over the coast of Maine as a test of the US air defence network. This may be obvious to some, but planes that crash into a mountain top will probably involve a long, steep hike up a hill to see the crash site. We didn't set any land speed records that hike!


So when Court explains the days itinerary, I should be more skeptical. In fact, as I reflect I think we have a situation much like the Project Management Swing. What Court explains is a mild 30 minute hike to Laguna Azul with 3 ascents and 2 descends. (Suspending disbelief, what goes up must come down so shouldn't those be equal?). I believe this would be frame 5 in the below picture.

Anyhow, what we come to realize it that an Aussie Blood can hoof that track in about 150% longer, and the rotund Americans can pray that it didn't more than take 200% longer.



I shouldn't incredibly say that we were all that slow, about the only thing consistent about the terrain is that each step is not like the one before it...nor the one after it


We did find time to entertain ourselves during our glacial paced walk.

There was B.I.G bamboo


Which apparently you should chop down to make a bridge


What ever you do, do not stub your left big toe on the suspension bridge. As the toe nail turns black and falls off in the next day or so, you will be constantly reminded on every upshift


At this point, we have convinced ourselves, that we are throuhgly lost. We've not taken a GPS nor a SPOT, and the trail has narrowed to what appears to the back entrance of a Donkey pasture. Since we've already invested this much in this fruitless road march, why not go down the next decline too.


At least we have big Escagot to survive on


And with that, Laguna azul shared her spoils with us. Laguna azul is something right out of a pornographic movie. For the short time we spent with her,we were mermaids in our minds.



About this time, I remember that faint babbling from the International travel doctor about avoiding swimming in untreated water. Something about bad things live in there and you will die a terrible death fraile American. Meh, look Doc, not hands!




If you notice there is rope swing next to waterfall. Boy am I glad that we left alone after seeing this vid!

You realize when you ride in a rain forest, that well, eventually you will ride in the rain. And rain it did. We skip the last little bit of dirt, and get into the Septimo Paraiso Cloudforest Reserve for the night.



Unfortunately for me, we are in a bird reserve. That means that all sort of nocturnal birds squawk, breed, fight, gawk, harass and sing ALL.NIGHT.LONG. In the middle of this picture is a grey bird perched on the end of the thick branch. He's in the owl family. It's a good thing that I didn't find him last night, otherwise I think I would be wearing a nice feathered hat this morning.


Did you know that crickets made chirps by rubbing the hairs on their hind legs together? Well, how much noise do you think this gargantuan cricket can make? He's hanging from the top of light off the nearest chain.


How about a walk to the pools?


Thermal Hot Spring Pool


Cool off in the regular pools


Maybe sit by the bar fireplace?


It's a comforting thought that this building appears to have some age. I get to thinking how this thatched roof could easily go up like a Roman candle.


Dear god these women can cook down here too!

What's a man left to do but end the day pondering?

While we are riding a Dual sport route, I expected the terrain to be tame by all accounts. In fact, Ecuador has paving roads and incredible rate even when you consider the embezzlement/corruption of Country funds only pave 1 mile out of 5 miles funded. After day 1, Kellie was inquiring how technical the terrain might get in the days to come. It seems that Kellie hasn't ridden an offroad bike for the last 30 years.

Last year, Blaster and I did decided to complete a local Warrior Dash. For those that have not partaken in Warrior Dash is a blend of fat kids Ropes Course in which you traverse 5K of wilderness on foot while encountering 10-12 military style obstacles. After the first mile marker, and a REALLY big hill, they posted a sign about 10 steps from the summit. I didn't need a sign, what I needed as I gasped what seemed to be my last breath of life giving oxygen was maybe medic. As the oxygen level in my blood returns to 98%, I contemplate the verbiage on the sign:



At lunch, we are booking down a high speed dirt road. So fun in fact, Blaster and I over shoot the turn. The turn, as it will be affectionately know from this point on, might as well leading to path to hell. The road narrows and well soon find out the scrub is covering the ditches. Soon after that, it now has some loose soil as it descends. An old farrier once told me, when you walk around with a hammer in your hand all day, everything starts looking like a nail. Luckily for me, the DR200 is my hammer. The 21 inch front wheel and the lightness, she just hops and skips her little way down the hill. Even as we approach 3 Ecuadorians in a some sort of delivery truck. Now what the heck this truck is doing here I don't know, and he's really tried to yield right of way, but there just plumb isn't much room.

The more portly F800 decides just to lock up the TKC70 and slide her way via the run off ditch past the truck. DR200 just chugs right along.


We get to the bottom of the hill and look back. There's clearly some sort of log jam, but Keith and Kellie will just need to pluck their way through too. And the minutes tick on. The next thing which is noted, that eye blinding florescent jacket is sauntering up the hill what appears to be on foot. I will suspend my first thought which Keith has been marauded by a Sasquatch whom took his Klim jacket and is now walking away from the crime scene.

Blaster and I decide it's been a bit too long, and we should return to the scene of the crime to provide assistance. As we get the bikes rerouted to the reverse heading, we pass an Ecuadorian on a very nice bike. My spidey sense is that Ecuadorians don't normally ride large displacement bikes and this rider has smile from ear to ear. In the next 10 feet, we see Kellie hobbling down the hill. It seems that she "came from together" not once, but twice, trying to navigate around the delivery truck.

The GDP per capita for Ecuador is $11,300. She was completely flummoxed as all of us were on the far side of the truck and she felt stranded. After the kid from the truck rescued her, she gave him $20 to ride the bike 100 feet down the trail. So pretty much, a day's is $30 and this kid just earned most of for hopping on a bike. I guess he's a friend of Andrew (As in Andrew Jackson, the guy on the $20 portrait!) This is a 3rd world problem!


While the kid is more than happy to continue to ride Kellie's bike, it's probably best if Keith dust off her pride and get us on the trail again. About this point, the afternoon sun is getting low in the sky and the rain has moved in, we clearly need to beat feat.


We decide to forgo the last bit of dirt and tarmac into Mindo. The driveway to the bird lodge is the last big challenge for Kellie for the day. She's not loving this last bit, but all is well as her helmet pops open and she gazes at the hostel.

As we head back to load up our wares from shopping, the Husky has marked her territory. There is oil all over the skid plate and the ground. Since last time gas was hens teeth to find, we decide to grab a quart of oil for her before we leave the civilization of Otavalo. Turns about to be an wise decision, as even finding a quart of wet clutch moto oil takes a few stores to locate.

Before long, we are heading out. Blaster finds his big leaves again, and turns into a nice Cabana boy for our roadside stop.


This welcome sign is a almost a stitch. It's the biggest thing in this one horse town which protects only a handful of abodes. But to people that live her, Mardi Gras is in full swing (despite Fat Tues being 3 days from now). As we drive through, the kids have lined the street with a bucket and hose. The street is marred with moisture of past aggressions, that must have been at least partially successfully given the splat patterns. As every rider passes, a bucket of water comes whirling their direction. Luckily, the kids are not skilled enough to perceive the true speed of the motos, and for Keith and Kelly at the end, the kids are unable to adjust fire accordingly to get a direct hit. Could you imagine kids in America doing this same thing on Main Street? They'd be jailed for life.

But, as Court told us since we can't beat them for Mardi Gras, it's best to join in the fun.



C(h)ow is where you find it. On the road or off


GPS leads us to this fascinating lunch stop...


Ever wondered what a $13.50 lunch might look like? 4 course lunch for 4 people


This river looks pretty angry. I can't believe that people are sitting in it just 20 yards upstream. Have you ever noticed that if a dog can get it's head through something, the body follows? Well, if I can get the bike's handlebar's to fit.....


It wasn't until a few days later, but we realize that despite living a tropical rain forest, many Ecuadorians can't swim.


So, it's even more curious that they are hanging out in this raging river.


This big guy was remarkably nimble. He's seen in the previous photo in the river. Somehow, he waddles over all those huge boulders to spray Kelly in the face with Silly String. He then retreats to the river rock, and returns again with a beer and plastic cup. He'd like Kelly to imbibe in some Ecuadorian beer with him.