November 8, 2015

My niece, who is a sailor, along with a few other people have been asking if I plan to perform a ritual when I cross the equator. Not being a sailor myself, and not having served on a ship, I had to look up the ceremony that is performed on ships as they cross the equator with first-timers aboard.

Today was my day, and although I still have no idea what the Overlander’s equivalent of the Crossing the Line ceremony may be, I am happy just to say I am no longer a Pollywog and am now officially a Shellback, or whatever the land-based version might be. And thankfully it didn’t require me to dress in drag or any other hazing.

It stopped raining last night and this morning dawned clear and beautiful. After giving my tent and bike cover some time in the sun to dry, I packed up, had a delicious breakfast at Finca Sommerwind, and said goodbye to Patricia and Hans.

Heading south on the PanAmerican Highway, I passed through several toll plazas. Unlike in Colombia, where there is a separate and free lane at the toll plazas for motos, in Ecuador motorcycles are required to pay a toll of 20 cents. I really wished it was 25 cents, because I started the day with ten quarters in my jacket pocket so I could easily pay the tolls, and at the end of the day I had more coins than when I started. Apparently there is no such coin as a nickel in Ecuador. You hand the toll operator a quarter and you get five pennies in return. Ugh. After the first couple, I quit waiting for change. I already have about five pounds of various foreign currency in my tankbag that I can’t exchange because nobody wants coins at the exchange places.

About 7 kilometers south of Cayambe is the Quitsato monument for the Equator. Across the street is a concrete globe in a park, which is not on the equator. La Mitad del Mundo (The Middle of the World) is Ecuador’s official tourism equator monument, and at nearly 100 feet tall, it is impressive. Unfortunately, it was erected on a site marked by a French expedition in 1736, and they missed by a good ways. All of these were placed before GPS, and I guess it was easier to fool people then (I think they were both honest mistakes at the time), but apparently the tour buses continue to take the hordes to La Mitad, even though it isn’t on the equator.

It’s easier these days to confirm whether you’re at the equator or not, since even most smart phones will tell you GPS coordinates. I stopped at the sundial marker on the side of the highway and asked the guy at the gate if in fact this was really the equator. he not only assured me it was (and I confirmed it with my GPS), but he pointed out the “Fake Equator Museum” next door, where they have interesting information on the various scams that people fall for at the equator. (The Fake Equator Museum is actually the restrooms for this site, but it’s a great second use of the building….and you get to watch the water swirl counterclockwise in the toilets too!)

 

The guy at the monument gave a 15 minute presentation in good English that explained how the pre-Inca civilizations understood the techniques of charting celestial movement for agricultural purposes, and the many sites that have been discovered in Ecuador from pre-Inca times that confirm their use of these sun-tracking methods. His presentation also focused on how we have been teaching geography wrong and all maps are drawn wrong; north should not be “up”. North should be to the left, and the equatorial line should run top to bottom on all maps. The organization promoting this, Quitsato, makes an interesting argument promoting this theory. Although at first I felt like I was in a Flat Earth Society presentation.

After taking the obligatory photo at 0.0000 latitude, I continued south to Quito. I got lucky, and arrived into this very large city just after the rain had stopped, and on a Sunday so traffic was not a problem. I found a hostel with a one-car garage that was willing to let me store my bike there for a couple of nights. The downside is that it is four to five times the price of every other night I’ve spent in last week. Okay, that sounds extreme, but I’ve only been paying $5 a night to camp and $7 for a hotel room. But I need to visit the local Yamaha dealer tomorrow so I will be here a couple of nights. After that, it’s back to sleeping cheap.

November 10, 2015

Quito is a big city. It has a population of over 2.6 million, and a bustle and energy that can be felt just walking around. Of course walking around Quito is quite a challenge itself. The city sits on several large hillsides, so many of the streets, including the one my hostel is on, look and feel like San Francisco. Which if it was at sea level, like San Francisco, would just be a minor workout. But no, Quito sits at 9,300 feet elevation, so hiking back up to the hostel, and elsewhere, is exhausting. I’ve been at altitude long enough now that I’m not feeling altitude sickness, but I am short of breath.

Yesterday I dropped the bike off at the Yamaha dealer on the north side of Quito to have the fork seal replaced. This morning I decided to take a walk to the Basilica del Voto Nacional, about a mile away.

 

 

 

 

 

Constructed between 1892 and 1909, but never completely finished, this is a beautiful cathedral to be sure. Apparently local legend says that when the cathedral is finished, the world will end.

As impressive as it is, I actually came here for the adventure. You see, for two dollars you can climb to the top of the tower for an incredible view of Quito. This is well worth the two bucks, and something you will never get to experience in the United States, for obvious liability reasons. There is no guide or anyone else with you; you are on your own, on the outside of a building over 100 feet in the air. And they let kids over the age of five do this, with an adult of course. No ropes, no harnesses. Nada. Personal responsibility. I love it.

You start by climbing ten flights of stairs (there’s an elevator at the other end of the building, but that seemed like it would take some of the spirit away). Then you walk across this creaking catwalk across the top of the cathedral, and up a ladder to the outside of the building.

Then you climb this ladder/stair on the outside of the tower.

 

 

It is indeed a beautiful view from up here.

I took a slightly different route back to the hostel, and ran across some more quirky stuff that is right up my alley…

 

On my way to pick up the bike. Will stay here one more night, then head south a bit more.

November 12, 2015

Leaving Quito, I decided to take the “Long Way Round” (sorry for the pun) and head east, then south through Tena to Puyo before turning back west to get to Baños. It’s about four times longer this way, but it’s also a road or two that I didn’t want to miss. And besides, I’m going to ride most of the way back towards Quito on the other road tomorrow anyway.

Climbing out of Quito, the road very quickly starts a climb that is much steeper than it appears. I could only manage about 40 kmh (about 24mph) for a good portion of the climb due to the steepness and the elevation of just over 12,000 feet.

 

This highway heads into Amazon country, and once past the highest (and coldest!) point it descends into lush Amazonian forest and jungle.

I lost count of the number of amazing waterfalls early on. It seemed like there was another every half mile or so, and in Baños they have the Ruta de Cascadas, or Waterfall Route that people primarily tour on rented bicycles.

 

In Baños, I stayed at the Magic Stone B&B, which I have to say is not only the nicest place I’ve stayed on this trip, but the hosts, Danish couple Ove and Aase are incredible. They’ve lived in Baños for a long time and are a wealth of knowledge, very welcoming, and they make a great breakfast too!

After checking in, I decided, at Aase’s suggestion, to cross the San Francisco bridge and climb the mountain to the towers at the top for a view of Baños from high above.

 

 

 

 

As I started to turn around at the top of the mountain, something caught my eye in a pasture that extended to the edge.

 

 

Coincidentally, one of the things I came to Baños to see was “Casa del Arbol” (the Treehouse), but this isn’t it. It just happens to be another treehouse. Apparently people here like their treehouses.

Here’s Casa del Arbol. I rode there this morning. If you could zoom in on the photo above far enough, you might be able to see Casa del Arbol on the mountain to the far right. Famous not so much for the treehouse, but for the swing attached to the tree.

 

 

 

After leaving Casa del Arbol, I went a little further east to La Cascada El Pailon del Diablo, or the Devil’s Cauldron waterfall.

 

There are four or five long tunnels between Baños and Rio Verde where Cascada El Pailon del Diablo is located. The tunnels have only been around for twenty years or less. The original road went around the outside edge of the mountain, and was one lane wide and paved with pavers and cobblestone. That road still exists, and if you pay attention, you can turn off before the tunnels and take the old road around the mountain, which is much more interesting.

Baños itself is very much a tourist destination. There is so much natural beauty in this area and outdoor activities, that the city has managed to recreate itself as an adventure tourism hub. This of course is good and bad, as I’m not a fan of hanging out in a town full of tourists. Fortunately the Magic Stone is on a hillside above the town, yet only a five minute walk into town for dinner.

 

 

As I write this the clouds have cleared and I am sitting on my front porch watching Volcan Tungurahua belch ash. It’s been doing this for years now.

 

 

 

Tomorrow I am off to get a better view of more active volcanoes.

Hasta Luego.

November 13, 2015

This morning I said goodbye to Ove and Aase, the owners of Magic Stone B&B. I feel like I made new life-long friends in the two days I was there, and I definitely feel that I will see them again in the future, though probably in a different town.

I headed west and then north, back towards Quito, but at Latacunga I turned west again and headed toward Zumbahua. The climb up to Zumbahua was windy, drizzling, and about 42°F at 13,000 feet elevation. Most of today was spent between 10,000 and 13,000 feet.

 

 

 

 

Not long after leaving Sigchos on my last leg headed back to Latacunga, I met Ian Willcox on his KTM. He’s from Scotland, but started in Australia and arrived in Bogota, Colombia about a month ago. He has a tremendous blog/website. He’s also headed south with a similar time frame, so chances are good I’ll run into him again somewhere down the road.

I planned to stay in Latacunga because I had heard of this incredible festival called Mama Negra, that (supposedly) takes place on the second Saturday in November. I guess somebody counted wrong this year, because after I checked into the hostel I found out the festival was last weekend. Doh. Oh well. The “other” attraction here, Cotopaxi, is closed due to the recent eruption. So I’ll likely head south again in a day or so.

November 15, 2015

I left Latacunga (elevation 9300 feet) and immediately noticed something was wrong with the bike. I was headed for the Visitor Center at Chimborazo Volcano. The visitor center is at an elevation of between 14,000 and 15,000 feet, so I was concerned about whether or not I was going to make it. At just over 9,000 feet my bike would only run 40 mph on flat ground, and around 27 mph while climbing up the road towards the volcano. I was determined to make it to the visitor center, where I had decided I would set up camp early and start working on the bike.

As I rode along I made a mental checklist of what I wanted to check:

• Cam timing (it really felt like the chain had jumped a tooth since it was still smooth just lacked power)
• Valve clearances
• Fuel quality (I had been buying “Extra” which is the equivalent of regular unleaded instead of “Super”)
• Air filter
• Air leaks
• Error codes in the fuel injection system (none were showing but I would run through the checks anyway)
• Spark plug (unlikely but it needed to be changed anyway)
• Spark arrester (I’ve never had to actually clean one of these on a modern 4-stroke, but it’s included in the Periodic Maintenance in the Owner’s Manual, so I figured I might as well check it….maybe the lower grade fuel was contributing to carbon buildup)

I was having to ride with the throttle all the way open most of the time, though if I forced it harder, I could get just a little more acceleration out of it. (This should have been a clue.) The closer I got to 14,000 feet, the more I was convinced that the problem wasn’t related to a fuel/air mixture issue, as it didn’t get worse with altitude; the bike ran the same at 14,000 feet as it did at 9,000 feet. I was convinced it was a mechanical issue.

When I pulled into the visitor center, it was very cold, the wind was howling, and there was nothing to hide behind to work on the bike or to set up the tent.

 

 

 

So I decided since the bike wasn’t running any worse I would head back down the mountain and find a hotel in the next town and work on the bike there. As I was riding down the mountain (much easier than up with only about 9hp on tap), I happened to look down at the heated grip on the throttle side and noticed that the wires running from the grip were touching the throttle housing. Apparently in all of the heat cycles from using the grip heaters, the glue had melted, the grip had rotated, and then it had re-glued itself in a position that caused the wires to bind on the throttle housing, not allowing the throttle to turn all the way. Doh. Never overlook the simplest of things. I had thought at one point that maybe the throttle valve wasn’t opening all the way, but I was going to check throttle cable free play, cable stretch, Throtlle Position Sensor adjustment, etc.

I stopped and forced the grip forward into its’ original position, and power was instantly restored. Phew. And embarrassing.

I rode for the next three hours in drizzle, in the clouds at 10,000 feet, with visibility at less than 100 feet. And since I had the grip heaters turned on, I had to forcefully grip the throttle to keep the grip from slipping. Tomorrow I’ll search for more Super Glue (that’s right….Super Glue. That’s what the grip manufacturer supplies with the heated grips, as regular grip glue is rubber cement and would melt when the grips were turned on. Just like these did, with Super Glue on them).

So, in keeping track of bike problems I’ve had in the first 15,000 kilometers of this trip:

1. Blown aftermarket headlight bulb
2. Leaking fork seal (aftermarket suspension work done prior to departure may have contributed)
3. Loose aftermarket throttle grip

That makes me 3 for 3 on problems NOT related to the original motorcycle. And ZERO problems related to the original motorcycle.

Funny story #2 from today: When I met Ian on the mountain a few days ago (see “Quilotoa Loop” post) I gave him a card for the Magic Stone B&B in Baños where I had stayed. That night I posted the photo of Ian from our meeting. Yesterday, Ian pulled up to the Magic Stone, and the owners greeted him as if they had been expecting him. They had read my post, and recognized him from the photo. It’s a small world, but nice to feel like you’re being welcomed home in a foreign country.

 

November 16, 2015

First stop this morning: the largest Inca ruins in Ecuador. Ingapirca is an interesting site that was occupied at different times (and together) by the Incas and the Cañaris.

 

 

 

 

 

After leaving the ruins, I rode another hour or so to Cuenca (I’ve noticed the locals pronounce it “Kwenk”) and headed straight to the local Yamaha dealer to have my oil changed. The store is beautiful with all the current “Revs Your Heart” signage and colors. The guys here were extremely accommodating, changing my oil immediately.

 

 

 

When I arrived at my hostel, there was just barely room for my bike in the lobby. That’s because there were two BMWs already in there….belonging to Daniel and Josephine from Germany. Daniel made a movie a couple of years ago called Somewhere Else Tomorrow that won several awards. I met him in Flagstaff, Arizona in May 2014 at Overland Expo and he presented the movie there. Small world, again.

Daniel and Joey are also headed to Ushuaia by February.

I plan to explore Cuenca a bit tomorrow, then move a little further south.

 

November 18, 2015

Several years ago, I read a Wall Street Journal article about Cuenca, Ecuador. It was all about how people from the U.S. were moving to Cuenca because the weather was “eternal spring” and the cost of living was cheap. I made a mental note all those years ago to check into Cuenca as a possible place to live. I even talked about flying to Cuenca for vacation just to check it out.

Then a few weeks before leaving on my trip, my brother showed me a Smithsonian magazine article about Cuenca, Loja, and Vilcabamba. These three southern Ecuador towns were becoming very popular as retirement spots for ex-pats from all over. it reminded me to do a little research on Cuenca. That’s when I discovered that Cuenca is not a small town; it’s roughly the size of Portland, Oregon, with around 400,000 people in the urban area and about 700,000 in the larger metro area. That was enough to convince me that Cuenca was too big for me. I’m a small town guy.

So when I got to Cuenca, I was surprised that it didn’t feel that large. The downtown area is only a couple of miles long by maybe a half mile wide, and easily walkable. It’s listed as a UNESCO Heritage Site for the architecture and colonial buildings in the downtown area.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I was headed out yesterday, I asked the hostel owner if he knew where I might find Super Glue for my grips. He immediately went upstairs and came down with a small tube. Unfortunately it was dried up, but I was able to find some at a tiny hardware store a few blocks away. So the throttle grip is back in its’ correct position and hopefully will stay there for a while. I was a bit surprised at the lack of residue left when I pulled the grip off. Usually you have to use acetone to remove that stuff. All that was left inside my grip was a little white powder.

I walked the downtown area fairly extensively, and there is no doubt that if you go to the places where the American ex-pats frequent (I went to an Italian restaurant and the Sunrise Cafe), you will see a lot of people from the U.S. speaking English. But it’s not over-run with them, since it’s such a large city. For the most part, everyone still speaks Spanish. I didn’t have that Antigua, Guatemala feeling that all the locals were going to speak English to me, and although some of the menus are in both languages, not much else is. I like that. I’m a firm believer that you should learn the language of the country you are in (that applies to those choosing to live in the U.S. also). But enough of my soapbox.

As I packed up to leave this morning, Daniel and Josephine came to send me off. It sounds like they are leaving tomorrow, possibly (I love that non-commital in-no-hurry attitude).

As I sit here typing this, the garbage truck is going by, and I am reminded to mention that….

The garbage trucks here (Ecuador, at least), play the same music as the ice cream trucks at home. I suppose it reminds people to bring their trash out to the curb. But it is funny. An American woman at dinner in Baños one night mentioned it and told a story about running out to get some ice cream there, only to meet the garbage man.

I’m in Loja tonight. Tomorrow morning I will meet up with Ian (see Quilotoa Loop post) and we will spend a couple of days riding some fairly remote off-road in the mountains of southern Ecuador. So I will be without wifi (or electricity, or restaurants, or hostels) for a couple of days. Next update from Vilcabamba in a few days.

November 20, 2015

The road from Loja south to Zumba is 96 miles, comprised mostly of fresh two-lane concrete road, occasionally interrupted by sections of gravel, because the highway builders haven’t been able to widen the road, divert the water, or prevent the landslides in those areas yet. In fact, in some areas where there is new concrete, the road is covered in dirt from landslides, or the concrete has collapsed due to a landslide under the road. Regardless, this is an incredibly scenic stretch of road. If you could turn the volume down a couple of notches on the scenery between just south of Vilcabamba and Zumba, you might think you were somewhere in Wyoming, near Yellowstone or Grand Tetons, or perhaps somewhere in Montana, but with higher, more jagged mountain peaks. It’s that good.

That would be the normal route from Loja south to the border at Peru. But that’s not the way I’m going. Oh, I’ll do that stretch of road, but I’ll do it at the end of my two-day ride, from south to north. Instead, I’ve been invited by Ian Willcox to ride along on a more remote route that loops through the Yacuri National Park.

I arrange to meet Ian at a petrol station just south of Loja at 11am. Unfortunately, at 10:45, I am still at my hotel. The parking arrangement at this downtown hotel is such that there is basically a one-lane garage about 6 cars deep in the lobby of the hotel, and my motorcycle is in the very front of all of the cars. As I’m waiting for the cars to move so I can get my bike out, I’m watching a video crew shoot a promotional video about the newly remodeled Villonaco hotel. The video crew takes an interest in the “American in the astronaut suit” standing in the lobby and asks to interview me. What the heck, I’m not going anywhere…

After the interview, and a few photos with the hotel staff and video crew, I finally get the bike out and head south to meet Ian, a half hour late.

Ian is there waiting for me and we head south to Malacatos, then start west toward Gonzanamá, where we stop for lunch. The locals here also look at us like astronauts, or something else they’ve never seen. This is clearly not the typical tourist route.

 

The road out of Gonzanamá is freshly paved, with nice new concrete curbing. It’s obviously new, and we keep thinking it will end and turn to dirt soon. But it continues nearly all the way to Amaluza before finally turning to construction. We find a hotel (the hotel) in Amaluza and check in.

In the morning we awake to low clouds, but at least it isn’t raining.

 

From Amaluza on, the road is dirt. The clouds are low and we climb into them. Visibility drops to less than 100 feet, it starts to drizzle, and it gets colder.

We ride like this through the Yacuri National Park. I can “feel” that the views would be spectacular if we could see anything. We stop at the Lagunas de Jimbura and climb the hiking trail, but after about 500 feet of vertical climbing, we realize that we will not see further than 100 feet regardless of direction, so we return to the bikes and keep riding. Incredibly, within a quarter of a mile of cresting the summit and heading down the other side, the sun breaks out and the views are fantastic.

 

 

 

From here on, the weather warms up, the roads dry up, and it gets dusty. Yet there are still waterfalls everywhere. We ride through San Andres, just about touching the Peru border, and continue to follow the Rio Jorupe for another 20 miles or so. Eventually we round a mountain curve and Zumba comes into view below us. It takes another 30 minutes or so to descend the mountain into Zumba. On this last section, my GPS dies a quiet death. It won’t do anything.

We stop at the PetroEcuador petrol station and fill up, then say goodbye. Ian heads for the border and I head north for 120 kilometers up that incredibly scenic road to Vilcabamba. Without my GPS, I’m left to find my way back to Vilcabamba by “feel”, finding the road out of the other side of small towns. It’s actually a pretty easy route.

 

(Post-Ride Note: I got a text from Ian after I arrived in Vilcabamba. He had made it through the Ecuador border process and was officially out of Ecuador — a big concern, since he had lost his paperwork for the bike — but when he got to the Peru side, there was nobody there. So Ian is in No Man’s Land….not officially in either country. Sounds like he may be camping there tonight to wait for the Peru officials in the morning.)

November 25, 2015

After five days in Vilcabamba, I decided to re-write my original post, which was rather scathing. This morning at breakfast I realized that it went against what I have believed all of my life, which is that all people should have the right to believe what they want to believe and worship as they see fit, so long as it doesn’t harm anyone else, and they don’t force it on me.

I definitely didn’t feel like anyone was forcing anything on me in Vilcabamba, but at times (especially on the weekend) I had moments where I felt like I was drowning in New Age eccentricity. Either that or I had somehow been transported to an alternate universe along with many people from Haight Ashbury in 1967.

I have to admit that my feelings for the place have rolled like a sine wave. When I first arrived and saw the village, I had a very positive feeling about it. The next day (Saturday) when I saw the large volume of ex-U.S. hippies converging on the square, my feelings weren’t so positive. By Monday, the square had returned to a very Latin American “normal” and a ride through the surrounding countryside helped to bolster my positive feelings about the place.

 

 

I really, really wanted to like Vilcabamba. I read articles over the past decade about the “eternal spring” temperatures here, and the “Valley of Longevity”. Supposedly people lived long lives here, well in excess of 100 years, claiming up to 130 years or more. Of course, that study was later proven wrong, but people here still embrace the concept, so much so that even the signs with the town’s name on them show an old guy with a cane in the logo.

When I arrived, I walked around town, looking at the village from different angles, taking it in. It’s a beautiful valley. There are a large number of restaurants and coffee shops in town for such a small place. (and TWO sushi bars, which as I’ve said before is a warning indicator for me). It’s generally a quiet, sleepy little community.

Vilcabamba makes Austin (whose slogan is “Keep Austin Weird”) look like a far-right conservative midwestern farm town. None of the people creating this effect in Vilcabamba are natives. And the natives seem split over it: the business owners seem to just grit their teeth and go along with it because at least some of them are benefitting from it. The local residents that were here before all of this “New Age” eccentricity arrived clearly aren’t thrilled with what has become of their little town.

I’m reminded of a cartoon from years ago, showing a Harley Davidson rider wearing a leather vest, leather chaps, boots and a do-rag, and pointing out all of the accessories on his Harley Davidson, all of which he bought to show his “individualism”. Of course, he and his bike were exactly like all the other “sheep” that spent a ton of money to “fit in” with a culture. They were trying so hard to be accepted and to look accepted that they lost their individualism entirely.

That’s what the ex-pats of Vilcabamba look and feel like.

Perhaps, as someone suggested, it is possible to live outside of Vilcabamba and only go into the town when needed. This sounds sort of like my love affair with Austin, having lived a distance from the craziness in a slightly more sane rural environment but still able to take advantage of what the city had to offer. But Vilcabamba isn’t a city. It’s a village. There isn’t much here, especially culturally. Not like Austin. I heard there are other “communities” on the outskirts of Vilcabamba that have a different feel, and that some of these communities have their own “energy”.

Looking around the city center for a few days, it would appear that all of the people who lived to a ripe old age in the Valley of Longevity have moved on. The percentage of New Age spiritualists seems to be increasing. And it’s my opinion that they have a right to believe what they want to believe. As do I. And I believe it’s time to hit the road.