September 24
Another long day… 360 km from to Lambayeque to Chimbote. But the roads were good (even four lanes sometimes) and the wind was only physiologically stressful for a few short bits. We were up and out early and it still took us until 5 pm to get to the hotel. This was mostly due to how often we had to slow down; what is the logic behind building a four lane highway with a posted speed limit of 90 km/h AND speed bumps? I don’t like thinking about it, but admittedly I have a short list of things in my head that is entitled “things I like about USAmerica”. Speed bumps, or rather lack thereof, isn’t in the top five, but it's on the list. Our ability, or at least effort, to deal with our garbage is in the top three for sure. Seriously Peru, you need to figure some shit out. We have ridden through hundreds of kilometers of garbage… Are you in fact a country of trash? At one place outside Trujillo the piles of mixed earth and garbage really confused me… After thinking about the scene I think I figured out what the deal is; so many people drive by and dump their garbage by that 2 km stretch of roadside that bulldozers have come in and plow the garbage (and roadside sand and dirt) into piles. How else could massive mixed piles of sand, soil, and garbage line the sides of the highway in such perfectly even shapes?

The highlight of our ride today was easily the sand dunes (far off the road where no garbage was mixed with them). I am not sure where they were (as Google Maps just shows it all as brown from above), but they were huge. If one didn’t look closely they could have been mistaken for hills and small mountains, but they were in fact made of sand. I didn’t know sand dunes could get that big. Our other visual treats of the day were two sightings of the Northern caracara (or ‘Total Badassery’ to quote Kristin) and a stoplight; the stoplight had a green left arrow, a yellow light, and a red light all lit up at the same time. Ernesto and I were unable to figure out if and what we were supposed to do, so we just went. Siga Siga. 

Chimbote is a real treat. Historically this was a very small community, but from the 60’s - 80’s the population went from 1,500 to 150,000, and today it is 750,000 (or something close to those numbers). Also, about 75% of all of Peru’s fisheries are based out of this town. The malecon is run down (literally and figuratively), but the casinos are running strong. We enjoyed a walk through town, not blending in, and listening to everything with a horn honk at everything. It was auditory madness. We are off the gringo trail/places gringos predictably stop, and we are enjoying that very much. We apparently went to the Peruvian version TGIFriday’s, and our Venezuelan waiter was eager and fun. All of our interactions with Peruvians so far have led to English very quickly - much more so than any other country. This is bad for our Spanish! In fact, our dinner tonight was waiter speaking in English and us speaking in Spanish. Maybe we are far enough away from USAmerica and Donald Trump that people want to speak English?

Peru has three national beers. Cristal, Pilsen, and Cusquena. They all taste the same as all the others (yes that is our PDX palate talking) except for Cusquena negra. It is some sort of dark sweet ick. Ernesto and I couldn’t even drink half a bottle. Even if it did have .5% more ABV over our other options, it wasn’t worth it. 

September 25
Our first order of business was to get gas, and as soon as we pulled up to a station two men approached us. They were late-20’s, in high-vis orange uniforms, and they wanted to chat! Both Ernesto and I appreciated that they wanted to talk about more than how much the bikes cost or how fast can the bikes go (which is how most of our gas station chats go with young men). They were genuinely excited that we were in Peru and wanted to know exactly where we had been, where we had stayed, and where we are going. They were both from Chimbote and were so very proud of their town and country. I fumbled a lot over talking about the fishing industry, so that was a regretted fail on my part. Ernesto is giggling remembering that as we were getting off our bikes at the gas station one of the men approached me and one of them approached him, but then very quickly both of them were talking with me and Ernesto was left to deal with the gas. He says (as if it should be obvious), “it is a lot more fun talking with a chick”. 

After reading more about Chimbote’s fishing industry last night, we wanted to check out the part of town that had the big boats, as the malecon we explored yesterday afternoon was mostly small boats (20-40 foot trawlers). We found Avenida de Pescadores easily enough, but sadly all the business built 30 foot walls on their frentes. One rather giant lot was clearly a boat repair facility, as we could see the giant masts sticking up from behind the wall. There was a man closing the front gate and for a brief moment I admit I was tempted to ride up and be the crazy gringo woman with the iPad, but some things are best left alone. So we turned around in the middle of the road to start our day’s ride. And as soon as we turned around, a nice man drove over to us and offered us assistance on how to get where we needed to be, because not matter how good our Spanish was, I’m not sure we could have explained why two gringos on motos wanted to be on Avenida de Pescadores. 

We had really nice road conditions today, so we were able to do ur 280 km with no problems. We had even bigger and better sand dunes today than yesterday, and even more ominous lighting; the sand and cloud-fog blended to an even shade of beige. At one point Ernie said he had never seen a landscape so devoid of color in his entire life. These hundreds of kilometers are a strange and interesting part of the world. We saw mountains with sand piled between and around them. We saw sand drift in every direction, in both small and large quantities. We hugged the ocean for about half of the day as well, which, in this nothing-but-sand-habitat gave the visual that we were riding along the biggest beach in the world. AND, we had at least a 100 km stretch (if not more) that was not lined with garbage. Phew. Sighs of relief. But said relief didn’t last long, because then came the chicken farms. So many… Likely to feed the masses in Lima. See Google Maps pic, then imagine 100 km of those long white buildings full of uncountable chickens. Sigh... After arriving to Haucho, we went out of our way to eat pizza. New life rule (that is right up with rule #1 of do not ever eat meat that comes in shapes): do not order food by the meter. For example, do not eat pizza that comes in .5, 1, or 2 meters. We ordered a meter of pizza. It was the worst pizza either of us have ever eaten, but at least it wasn’t chicken. 

​September 21
Another easy, non-extreme, 240 km ride today from Loja to Huaquillas. Nothing too boring (just a little boring), nothing stunning (just a little stunning), and nothing challenging (as in nothing at all challenging). 

So, our hotel has a garage. When we arrive, the man at the desk says the garage isn’t secure enough for our motos. He wants us to park them inside the hotel, despite the large bus blocking the entrance of the hotel. He starts giving an Ernie a demonstration of how it's all going to play out (as I’m sitting with the bikes so I got to watch from a distance, but close enough to know it wasn’t a good plan). The man walks out to the front of the bus and points to a part of the curb from the street to the sidewalk that has a little ramp. Then he motions to the first of three steps on the sidewalk, around shops and concrete pillars and people’s boxes of crap for sale on the street… His arms are waving and Ernie is following. For the second time my Ecuadorian friends, our bikes are hundreds and hundreds of pounds, we cannot “hop” 10 inch steps without space and speed! The bus driver is in the lobby and he is sitting on the couch. He has a resting smile face (as opposed to a RBF), so I ask the hotel man and the bus driver man if the bus is going to be there all night, and if not, when it moves can we go up the ramp that the bus is blocking. The bus driver agrees to move his bus! He fires up the bus, moves back 10 feet while we move around the bus, he waits a minute while we both successfully use the reasonable ramp. We ride through the lobby and park at the back of the hallway on the first floor, and before we have even taken off our helmets, coats, and gloves the bus driver is back on the couch. Immediately afterwards we go up to him and say thank you with big smiles. About five minutes later I go out to the street to take a picture of our bikes in the back of the hotel. I can’t remember who started it, but we began a long conversation. It went from two people to five people to three people. His name is Fernandez and he was very curious and excited for us - where we have been, and where we were going. He was the most excited over our pictures in Ecuador and Colombia; I think it was his way of connecting with us as well as his way of demonstrating being proud of his (established) connection with what we are currently doing. It was the perfect way to end our travels in Ecuador. Gracias Fernandez! Y gracias Ecuador, por todo, incluyo Los Galápagos...

September 22
According to many interweb sites the border between Ecuador and Peru is the worst in the world. Um, no. Maybe it was during some other time and place, and yes it was terribly inefficient, but it was fine and safe and not a single person hassled us. We went to a building, had to go back to another building (actually we had to go back to another country), had to go back to original building, left with small pieces of paper, etc. It was still our fastest border yet at 2 hours and 15 minutes. By noon we were on 1N (after Lima it's called 1S), and… umm… it's not terribly interesting. So far, Peru smells bad, is brown, is straight, and is flat. There are a few parts that have a fun “Mad Max” feel, but other than that it is rather uninspiring. In fact, I had too much time to get lost in my own head, and sadly I thought about school. Before this sabbatical ends, I’m hoping to figure out how I can care very deeply about what I do without caring so much about what I do… I seem to collect and carry drama, disagreements, or disappointments with students or colleagues, so my shoulders and heart inevitably end up heavy with baggage. My old habit is to take it home and unpack it all, but that just sucks non-work time with work-related things, and I don’t want to do that anymore. 

Even worse than thinking about work however, was the sea lions… (cover your ears Rager). We saw dozens and dozens of dead sea lions rotting on the beaches. We researched it later, and it has been going on since 2014. Hundreds and hundreds of pinnipeds have washed up over the past three years. I couldn’t find anything definitive, but most of the information says the fishermen are poisoning them. With depleting fish stocks and the pressure the fishermen face, I am saddened but not surprised (Peru is #3 on the list of what countries take the most from the ocean [China, Japan, Peru, Chile, USA]). The Galapagos sea lions were relatively small compared to CA sea lions, but the ones here are relatively large. When we first saw the carcasses we thought they were small whales. Needless to say, the buzzard populations are doing well. Seeing all those buzzards feed on all those potentially poisoned sea lions is my second worst imagery after seeing the perro get hit in Playa Ventura. 

The good news/best part about today was that we got to see some old friends. As hinted at above we are riding fairly close to the coast for most of Peru, so our pelican and frigate friends are back. And the pelicans big: twice the size of Mexican pelicans. As for human friends, we met up with the English and Irish blokes from the Stahlratte at the border crossing! Right as we pulled into the parking area and were bumbling around looking for where we should be, we see Tom, Ian, and Phil, and their new fourth nut Mark who they met in Bogota. Bueno! Or as the blokes would say, Fucking Bueno! 

We spent the night in a little surfer town, Lobitos. It is… sparse. The road to get here was thick gravel and full of oil rigs. It is a cute little collection of bungalows however, and La Senora is lovely. There are only two other guests here (maybe 12 rooms total?), and sadly, one of them is downstairs smoking meth. We apparently locked our door when we went out to find food, and when we returned we discovered our key did not work. Luckily the other guest was not high on meth and he was able to climb up through our second story window and open our door for us. 

September 23
Today was hard. We did over 300 km and it took us about 7 hours of road time. The first 100 km was very slow (3-4 hours) on poor road conditions, on par and at times worse than Guatemala’s roads. It was either the quality and quantity of the potholes on the road (deep and plentiful), or just big sections missing pavement altogether. We averaged 10-15 mph. The second 200 km was one of the straightest, windiest, and desolate sections we have ever done (moto or car). The first half had some trees/shrubs and wasn’t as windy, but the second half was just sand and wind. We set the cruise control and leaned right into the wind.

Yesterday I was at least polite about it, saying Peru so far was uninteresting and smelt bad. But today I’m going to be more specific. The northern, coastal area of Peru sucks. The smell… at first I thought it was just the city, then thought it was just the dead sea lions, and finally I thought I had just stepped in a really big pile of poop. But now I think it's in the air, in the soil… just everywhere. It stinks here. Like a mix of feces and rotting flesh and burning plastic. Peru and/or Peruvians have also seemingly given up on trash and littering. Garbage and plastic has been a problem since we left USAmerica, and it is a post in of itself one day, but Peru is the worst we have seen (Nicaragua and Colombia were the best). 

Reminiscent of Zihuatanejo, the address to the hotel that was given to us by Booking.com was not the actual address of the hotel. After 45 minutes of bumbling around and asking locals (several of which were seriously afraid of us, wha?), we finally paid a moto-taxi to take us there. It was on the complete opposite end of town, which meant it wasn’t in walking distance to food and tiendas. Grr. So we paid another moto taxi to take us in and out of town, but we are both glad because it was really fun! It was so loud and bumpy. It had these “doors” for the passengers in the back to keep the elements away, which after three months on a moto was really endearing. 

And sadly, something happened to La Senora’s dog first thing this morning, and we are pretty sure he died. I am so sorry La Senora… 

The most memorable part about today was Talara. It was not a nice town. It is one of many Peruvian coastal towns that boomed in the 60’s-80’s then collapsed with the fish stocks in the 90’s. There was a kilometer stretch of the road, north of town, that was lined with fishing boats that were once for sale, but are now just rotting in the sun… A supersized graveyard that is hopefully (but doubtfully) serving as a supersized reminder not to exploit natural resources. At one point we crossed a bridge and Ernesto and I were both stunned by the chaos to our right, so much so we quickly agreed to pull over and park so we could go look at it again. The picture does it no justice, especially since the bridge was so shitty it shook while we stood on it and the cars and trucks rode past… But the boats in the water, the boats on the land, the fisherman processing fish in the water, the pelicans in the water, the frigates flying overhead, the cranes moving cargo on the dock, the garbage on the banks, the insanely tall grass it hid full grown horses and made the boats look small… 

​We had a nice and easy 225 km day from Cuenca to Loja on the PanAmericana. It was mostly sunny and quite scenic, and a few months ago we probably would have WOWed around many of the turns. Upon reflection, Ernesto and I agreed that for the first time since we have left Oregon, we were not bored at any point nor were we in danger/concerned about anything. From traffic to weather to road conditions to directions - there was nothing that strayed from comfortable. We rode along the 3000 meter ridgetop for most of it, and when we dipped down and back up through some valleys it was cool to see the road we were going to be on in 20 minutes (as well as the road we were on 20 minutes ago). However, Ernesto and I have seen so much breathtaking views lately that our bar for WOW is now just a bit too high…  

Our wildlife of the day was a single deer. A six point buck, and he had a very dark coat. After we saw it, the sighting felt odd and just as I was trying to figure out why, Ernesto says to me (as if it should have been obvious), “it is strange to see something so ordinary”. 

We had a brief walk around Loja, including some very mediocre but very cheap food. There is a lot of construction in town, so it is a bit loud here. Hopefully it settles down before Grandma & Grandpa want to go to bed, which with any luck will be very soon.

The polychaete worm I brushed up against in the Galapagos continues to molest me. (Is it karma or the universe telling me I shouldn’t have tide pooled??) That finger is now very swollen and covered with tiny blisters. It burns, itches, and aches. My hand/that finger still fits in my moto gloves, so I don’t have to cut it off yet... I’ll post the picture I took with the setae in my skin. And yes, for those who have requested, I will take a selfie and post a picture of my haircut ha ha!

September 17
We must have been riding on a little built up karma today… we saw the top of Chimborazo and a bunch of vicunas! We rode up and up to where there were no trees and no power lines, just wind, bunch grasses, and a few Ecuadorians with their llamas (and boy do I like llamas). I was laughing most of the way up, as the entire sky just got thicker and thicker with white clouds the more elevation we gained. The chances of seeing Chimborazo seemed slim to none. We didn’t even know where it was or if we had passed it. We turned a corner and I liked the way the (excessive) clouds looked over the valley and asked Ernie to pull over so I could take a picture. Turns out my camera was dead, and while I was fumbling around with it Ernie sees a snow covered something ahead, barely peeking out through the clouds. He says, “I think that is the mountain up there”. I ride up to him, take a few pathetic pics of the little we could see with the iPad, then we hop back on the bikes with a very small sense of satisfaction that we saw at least a little of it. But then, the sky just... broke. For a short while we got a spectacular view of Chimborazo. We could even see the rims of the glaciers on the top. It was a very nice moment. 

Not even a few kilometers later Ernie spots a herd of five or six animals next to the road. Since I’d been making goofy noises over many of the cute llamas we had seen already that day, Ernie says “there are some cute llamas right there”. I spot them and then in a high pitched voice say, “Those aren’t llamas! Those are vicunas!!!” And over the next 5-10 km we probably saw about 50-75 more (and then after that, no more vicunas). We pulled over once to watch a herd feed that was right next to the road. They have very dainty feet and seem to defy gravity when they walk up and around rocks. To LD, I converted one of my side cases into a vicuna carrier and snagged a yearling. I’m pretty sure I can get her through all our border crossings, so start picking out baby names. 

Then our descent… in three hours we got to experience all the habitat changes. First came the conifers, then some eucalyptus trees. The bunch grasses were replaced with small plants with small white or yellow flowers. Eventually there were trees and shrubs with big red and purple flowers and ferns and palms. And then by the time we reached the river basin it was full on jungle, with too many types of plants to keep track of. And then it was dry, and we were in the valley with a struggling ecosystem. Ernie was watching his temperature gauge today, and at Chimborazo it was 44 degree F and in Babahoyo it was in the mid 80’s. For those who are quantitative like myself, Chimborazo is just over 6000 meters (20,000 feet), and the road where we took the pictures from is 4000 meters (13,000 feet). It took us 100 km to ride down to Babahoyo, which is at 11 meters (36 feet) :0

We had our first bad coffee this morning, but we think that is user error. Ecuadorians, to our surprise, like and almost exclusively offer instant coffee. We read a few short articles about it, and the reasons are 1) coffee only grows at certain elevations, and Ecuador has many elevations, 2) Ecuadorians are not as affluent, and instant coffee is cheap, 3) instant coffee is easy, as almost all Ecuadorians have access to boil some water and store some coffee powder. The instant coffee we have had hasn’t been bad at all, and in some cases been quite good. Again, our bad coffee this morning was because we were the ones in charge of making it. We had no idea how much powder was appropriate for how much water. And I don’t think we will be learning this. Ignorance is bliss. 

Also, side note: the crop of Ecuador is whatever they want it to be. With the rich soil, dramatic altitude, and proof of engineering greenhouses on seemingly any slope, they can and seemingly do grow everything. Granted, they cannot grow very much of any one thing, but the diversity of crops must be one of the largest in the world. 

Babahoyo is a very nice little town. No gringos. During our two hour walkabout we did not blend in. We were hoping for some comida tipico but damn siesta hours, especially on a Sunday. So we had some Chinese instead, and it was pretty good. The adventure of our time in Babahoyo was definitely checking in. This hotel advertises a garage, and they do not have a garage. They have a ballroom that can store motorcycles. So to store our motos in the “garage”, we have to hop the 6” curb from the street to the sidewalk, hop the 10” step from the sidewalk to the lobby, ride through the lobby - tiled with polished white marble - around the fancy furniture, then park in the ballroom (more polished white marble). With a 50cc or even 250cc moto, hopping a 10” curb is no problem. But our bikes with all the gear weigh at least 650 lbs. There is no “hopping” a 10 inch marble step. The hotel owner does not want us to go to another hotel and is convinced we can make it work. In fact, both he and his 75 year old mother (La Senora) are convinced we can make it work. After I pay (of course) he collects some concrete blocks and boards, and Ernie and I are now convinced enough that with these new accessories, we can make it work (Ecuadorian peer pressure!). There were four of us pushing and pulling, but we got both bikes in there. And then, as we were futzing with exactly where to put them in the garage/ballroom, the guy says (in Spanish), “It's ok to park them anywhere in here. There are no more motos coming and no parties tonight”. Ha!

Side note about Babahoyo: both north and south of town are rich with tilapia farms, and unlike other areas, they are not covered with nets (presumably because they are too big of an area to cover with nets??). As such, the birding is spectacular. A variety of hawks, herons, egrets, and even a few kingfishers. We probably saw close to a thousand white herons today, and a least a few hundred hawks. 

September 18
Today was not without trials. Ernesto and I had some downs, but it all ended up, and we continue to be committed to the ride. 

We had a frustrating start to the day by just getting out of bed. The floor of our room was slick tile and had a tight ledge right by the foot of the bed/on the way to the bathroom. Overnight a thin layer of water covered over half the room. At first we thought it was a leak, but we couldn’t find any watermarks on the walls or anything dripping from above. Ernesto quickly found the source; the “plant” in the corner (which yes, we are ashamed we did not notice this set up when we checked in, but its a big room and we had no such thing on our minds). You know how all AC units need a place for the condensation to go? Well with no windows in this room, they set up a little system for the pipe to come out at the bottom of the wall, into a little bucket. Put a plastic green bush on top and voila, you have a fake plant that also serves as the water receptacle for the AC. Only trouble is, someone has to empty the bucket or the hotel room fills with water. Normally I don’t mind a wet floor, but I had put my moto clothes right on the floor in front of the bucket, so my pants in particular were soaked through. Knowing the discomfort of sitting in cold wet pants for hours on end (jacket NBD), I went to the front desk and asked about a dryer. He said there was no secadora, sorry. Another little bit of New Jersey came out and I explained (in poor Spanish) that the only reason my pants were that wet was because of their shitty AC system and the leak all over our floor. He made some calls, and an hour and a half later I had pants that were dry enough to leave Babahoyo. La Senora showed up about an hour in, and she was incredibly sweet about it. She runs a tight ship, and she yelled at at least four people about emptying the bucket and making sure that as soon as my pants were dry they were on their way back to the hotel. Her family showed up and they all wanted to see the motos (in the ballroom) and they wanted to know more about where we were from and where we were going. Gracias por todo Senora! Outside of the parking and AC situation, it was a very nice hotel. Actually, it was the second most expensive hotel we have had since Tapachula, Mexico - outside of Ernesto’s birthday (and that includes our evenings in the Galapagos). We only chose this place because it was the only place in town with a secure garage...

After a late start we had quite a day and quite a ride (see first paragraph of todays blog). I’ll only write about the two parts Ernesto and I want to remember. The first was the fog. I don’t even know if it was fog… it was too thick to be fog. It reminded me of the few (snow) whiteouts I’ve been in Montana and South Dakota. The road was windy, steep, and scattered with patches of gravel. Visibility was 5 meters at its worst, 10 meters at its best. At one point there were signs that said “Men Working 1 km”. Then “Men Working 500 m”, then 300m, 200m, 100m, and this was all taking us many minutes… We got to the spot where the men were (not) working, and it turned out that the entire right lane was gone. The road had given way and it was just a drop off. We couldn’t see it until we were right on it. Which, given our mental state, was probably a good thing, as it was probably a pretty scary sight. We both rode with our hazards on, and it took us about an hour to get through it. It was a long, long hour. Ernie just reminded me of something I forgot: one of the cars that rode by was taking our pictures. Wtf? It's hard to imagine they were doing that in a respectful way. Ernie says they will get posted on www.gringosareidiots.com.  

But then POOF! Our best POOF yet! We got above the clouds. Blue sky, sunshine, and smooth pavement to climb up and up back to 4000 meters like yesterday. There was some harsh wind, but it was exhilarating to make the climb. It peaked and plateaued at Parque Nacional Cajas. Mountainous, Andean grasslands with a thick white cloud cover. The habitat is sprinkled with ponds and small lakes, and the water looked so clean, especially compared to much (all?) of the standing water we have seen since leaving Oregon. The local word for it is “paramo”, and this location and the highly adapted tree that grows here makes it one of the highest “true” forests on the planet. If the moon had bunchgrasses… that is where we were. 

There was one section before beginning our brief descent to Cuenca where the road did hairpin turns around the small bodies of water and colorful cliffs… We have never seen anything like it. We have never seen pictures of anything like it. It was incredibly rewarding. With the unseasonable weather and fog with the lush grasses and tiny yellow flowers and giant, giant rocks… Ernesto said, “There are probably very few people that have had this experience.”

We are feeling the elevation, both here in Cuenca and the days before Babahoyo. Mostly we notice when we are climbing more than one or two flights of stairs. My original thought was how out of shape we are, but then I remembered that some people actually get high altitude sickness crossing elevations the way we have done over the past few days. So maybe we aren’t in as bad of shape as we think we are. 

Everything we have read, we are in the dry season. We would not want to visit in the wet season.

Last adventure of the day was our hotel. We booked a place online and when we arrived the parking situation was not clear. We just stopped on the street like dumb gringos, but we had our hazards on like locals. After enough honks we moved along and figured we would u-turn and try it again. We forgot to turn our hazards off and were still driving slow (opps), so a local English speaker asked us what it was we looking for and offered to help. And hilarious - in his car he got in front of Ernie, stopped in the road, got out and walked back to Ernie and they proceeded to have a chat. Blocking all traffic, and no one honked! When E and I reflected on it later I said “that’s because we didn’t need a ride” ha ha. Anyway, we get back around and just park on the sidewalk in front of the hotel (the curb was not fun). The hotel receptionist explained that they have had problems with Booking.com and they have our reservation but all the rooms are booked. There was no hotel room available. I had wanted to use the “Reservation” Seinfeld reference for years, and I finally got to do it today. I stood in the lobby of that hotel and wave my arms about saying “Take Take Take”. Ernie didn’t know what I was doing, but when I explained later he laughed… Between her phone calls and my Googling we found a place just around the corner. It costs a little more, but it is much much nicer (and we will pay an extra $10 to not go into downtown orthogonal Cuenca). When we check in to the new hotel the receptionist tells us there is a little problem with the power, but it will be on 30-45 minutes. No problemo. We head out for dinner and to walk the aisles of the nicest grocery store we have seen in weeks (months?). And it is cheap (money wise) and classy (people wise). When we get back to the hotel the manager greets us and she is visibly upset… She informs us there will be no power through the evening and she is so very terribly sorry. Neither Ernie or I reacted negatively (maybe because the room is now free). Mostly we tried to calm her. We were both just happy to be in a safe, dry place. The bikes are secure, we have a big clean bed, the toilet works, we have our headlamps, camplight, and Kindles. We are missing out on wifi and TV and hot water, but we have gone without those things many nights. 

Ultimately Ernesto and I conclude Cuenca is inviting. Even with our very small ride and walk through town, we can tell this cuidad is polished. I.e., this town is probably too classy for old, clown or animal themed garbage cans and definitely too classing for two stories of rebar sticking out of otherwise finished buildings. We read a bit about it during dinner, and we decided we want to see more of this city. 

September 19
We had a lovely and sunny day exploring the streets and sights of Cuenca. Iglesias, museos, parques, gente, comida… todo es bonito. 

One of our stops in town today was a beauty shop. After asking Ernesto, he agreed to cut my hair. After all, I trust him more than some random stranger in a dark and strange street booth. So we bought some scissors and a comb. It was, in some ways, a serious exercise in trust building. I like my hair. My hair isn’t great, but it's long and I can wear it up or down. But Ernie has built guitars, so of course he can cut my hair. So with a wet, freshly combed head, he went to work. The goal was an inch, and except for the one part where he took 2-3 inches, it looks great. I may or may not have freaked out when I saw that chunk of hair drop, but ultimately I feel edgy and cool with my new do. Asymmetry is the new style. 

To El Marko: Ernesto just played Black Mountain Rag perfectly and he is never going to play it again. 

To Ernesto y Tara: don’t ever forget the “learn to speak English” commercials. “I would like to dance” and “In sickness and in hell”. 

​September 15
Ahh. Back in the saddle. Ernesto y Tara. Feliz y tranquilo. AND, new hemisphere, new winter moto jacket! We were both so much more comfortable in the elements today, but honestly they felt a bit awkward. Our summer jackets were almost soft and we kind of slimed into them every day; the kevlar is deeply embedded with dirt/dust/biological elements as well as exhaust/oil/automotive elements…  Our winter coats are crisp and shiny. Almost formal (they have been in sealed dry bags since June 28th). For a little while today I kind of felt like someone else on my bike. 

After a good rest back at our hotel outside of Quito, we got up and repacked the bikes. I’m pretty sure we wrote about him, but when we first got to the hotel pre-Galapagos and were packing the bikes to store under the shed, there was an Aussie who came over and chatted with us. He was very friendly, had been in Ecuador for nine years, and that night he was leaving to go home with Percy, the dog that had found him and his wife and were taking back with them to Australia. During our chat we asked him about roads in Ecuador and if he had any suggestions, and he said “Aw yeah, I could come up with a few ideas, I’ll put on my thinking cap.” We continued to have a nice chat, but after our conversation came to a natural close, we didn’t see him again after that. When we got back to our bikes this morning (five days later), there was a map set under a helmet. And it is not just some crappy map. He spent some time on it. It was not only mostly to scale, but it included tidbits about what we could see if we went that way. To Percy's owner - thank you! It was much appreciated and we hope a random stranger repays you a kindness soon. 

We had a great and interesting day, and it was punctuated into three parts. The first part of our ride was the climb east of Quito through Papallacta Pass, which is about 4100 meters (or almost 13,500 feet). There were no trees, and lots and lots of signs to watch for wildlife we didn’t see (including bears, and we had no idea Ecuador had bears). We pulled over twice: once to put on our final warm layer and then again to put on our rain pants. It wasn’t raining, but we were so high we were in the cloud cover we were getting moisture directly (and constantly) from the clouds (which is what rain is, I know… but you know what we mean). The cold and the darkness made it all very ominous, and at least for me, the extra bit of anxiety made for a more tense ride. The second part was lower in elevation, but still around 2000 meters high. We followed an above ground oil pipeline (interesting), and there were too many waterfalls to count. Parts of the road were washed out, and at points we had to go slow due to visibility, but there were still pretty good road conditions compared to what we have experienced. The river below, as well as all the rivers rushing into the main river, were loud and fast. The rivers looked like waterfalls and the waterfalls looked like rivers. At a few places it felt really desolate, and just when Ernie and I were really thinking we were in the middle of nowhere, we approached a small town whose “Bienvenidos” sign and entrance included a 10 meter tall statue/sculpture thing of a white dude rock climbing. Gringo white, not pale-South American white. Huh? We learned later this was Cuyuja Crag, and let us down a funny interweb path of young gringos and selfies. And the third part of our ride today was by far the fastest stretch of road we have done since leaving California (where we were forced to drive fast and didn’t like it). It was about 75 km of smooth, trustworthy tarmac. No traffic. Giant sweepers, no hairpins - all the turns were Good. We may or may not have done some speeding...

Our critter of the day was the oropendola - we saw 11. Every tail just as sexy as the last. Our individual critter of the day was the sexy chicken at our snack break. White, brown, and green. 

And now we are in Puyo, a non-tourist town east of the Andes. We are sitting on the third floor patio. I am typing and Ernie is playing guitar. Before it got dark we walked the streets and malecon, didn’t blend in, got honked at by taxis, and all was just as it should be. We ate some cheap and good food in a side street open-aired restaurant. There was a salsa I wanted to drink from the cup it was served in (and I told the Senora as much when we were paying and leaving, and she laughed at the gringo). Best we can figure it is cilantro, purple onion, vinegar, mustard, garlic, lime, salt, and heat - and then maybe some celery or another type of onion (Tonya can help me figure it out!). We aren’t seeing the shoe selection here compared to other towns; most of the shopping in Puyo is clothes. My plan was to sulk and pout over my lost sweatshirt for a least a few weeks, maybe even until the end of the trip. But my three options to clothe my upper body right now are one of two short-sleeved quick dry shirts, my long underwear, or an 800 fill puffy coat - i.e., I have nothing to wear when it's warmer than 60 but cooler than 80. Given the fashion that lines most Central and South American women’s clothing stores, I took notice of a non-offensive long sleeve “thing” that had a hood and felt soft. There was only one, size “M”. “Cuanto questa?” I asked. $35. Yikes - I walked away. We found said clothing while we were on the hunt for ice, and via a bit of asking around we eventually found a cafeteria that sold ice. We asked for a bag of ice. And yep. It was a two gallon sized plastic bag, filled with water, frozen, and sold as a bag of ice. Nothing I can use to ice my foot with, but since we asked and she went and got it and it was only $.75, we bought it anyway. On our way back with the ice we walked by the store again, the normal long sleeve thing stared at me… I asked Ernesto if he would judge me for buying a $35 shirt. He laughed, said no, and we bought it. 

Ernesto, would you like to say anything about today? 
“It is good to be back riding our motorcycles. And it seems like there is noticable difference between tourist towns and real/non-tourist towns that has been consistent on our entire trip.” 

September 16
Brrr! Accuweather said it was between 1-5 1 degrees C on our ride through Banos, but we think it was at least a bit warmer than that.  And raining… One of the biggest reasons we took this detour off the PanAmerican is for the scenery, especially the stretch we did today. There are volcanoes and cliffs and according to Lonely Planet lots for us to wow at and we saw nothing. At one point visibility was probably 30-40 meters. We saw the river below a few times, which was cool because this area is the local start of the Amazon Basin. We did see some good waterfalls, including one giant waterfall to the south that fell off a plateau. Although I think some of the “waterfalls” were just areas where water was falling due to the unseasonable heavy rains of the past few days. Yes, I make a point of this as September is a dry season in high elevation ecuador and it is robbing us of our scenery ha! We only had ~100 km from Puyo to Ambato, so our plan was to park in Banos for a bit and check it out. Ernie had heard of this town from outdoor enthusiast friends, and it is indeed a mecca for biking, hiking, climbing, rafting, etc. There were many gringos in crappy rain gear with truly miserable and stressful faces biking from Banos to Puyo (i.e., the opposite direction of us, which is downhill, and then they take a bus back uphill, as it is a 1000 meter elevation change). I guess it is one of the bucket-list activities for tourists while they are here, so good for them and their shorts and t-shirts (brr!) and making it happen. But we were so cold and wet and Banos was cold and wet; we feared if we got off the bikes in Banos we would get a chill and then the ride to Ambato would be miserable. So we pushed on and by noon we were checked into our hotel, and by 12:30 we had warmed up with hot showers and had our gear hanging to dry (please dry by tomorrow!). 

Ambato is hardly a tourist town, so we took a cab into centro and walked around. It has the appearance of a big city but the tempo and decibel level of a small town. Bueno. The main square was very ornate, and we were disappointed the museums we wanted to go to are closed on Saturday and Sunday. 

Yesterday and today we have seen a lot of my most and least favorite things about Ecuador. 
My least favorite thing about Ecuador the garbage cans. I guess they are trying to make garbage fun??? The basic city street-can here has a colorful metal base and then a giant head with a big open mouth. It is normally the head of a clown but also sometimes a duck, bunny, dog, cat, etc., and the mouth of course is where you toss the trash into. These may have been fun and charming when they were made, but now with their faded colors and peeled paint they are dismal and creepy. Broken ears on the rabbits, ten year old gum stuck to the eyeballs of the kitty, and holes that look like bullet holes in the clowns upper lip. Say nothing of the overflowing garbage out the clown’s mouth… it's right out of a horror movie. This is no place for coulrophobics (thanks spell check!). I posted a picture of the nicest one we saw, and you are all very welcome I did not post the alternative. 
My favorite thing about Ecuador is the traditional Ecuadorian women's dress. The style, the colors… the hats. In my opinion Ecuador has the best indigenous styles. I haven’t taken any pictures out of respect, but there are many individual women that I will not forget. Especially the woman today in the deep blue skirt and pitch black hat. Her smile was disproportionately large to her small frame. Her pace was something I strive for. She wore a tattered maroon shawl and it was tied around her shoulders with a rope that was almost like jewelry… as an attempt to translate its beauty, that piece of rope could have easily fetched $50 at a boutique antique store. 

During our evening planning of the days ahead, we quickly learned it is supposed to be cold with steady rain for the next three days. Our options are 1) ride through scenic mountains we can’t see in cold, steady rain, 2) wait it out and then ride through scenic mountains we can see in sun, or 3) head west to the coast and head for Peru. We choose #3. Tomorrow will still be a cold, rainy ride for at least 100-150 km, and we have lots of fingers crossed we get to see Volcan Chimborazo. This volcano is actually the highest land mass on our planet; Earth bulges a bit at the equator so it is actually farther away from Earth’s center and closer to the stars than Mt. Everest. Holy crap!

I finished “The Faraway Nearby” (thank you clw! good. wow), and now Ernesto and I are both reading “The Voyage of the Beagle”. How appropriate to read Chuck’s words while we travel through South America, especially the Galapagos. Ernesto actually started a week or so ago, so I’m a bit behind. The preface (to this Second Edition) had a very striking start:
“In an age when everywhere is just a few days’ journey from anywhere else, the very idea of travel has more or less disappeared. Instead, there is tourism. From Disney World to Dahomey, hurdles must be invented and risks constructed amuse the voyager. In the nineteenth century… the idea of putting oneself into real or imagined danger just for fun was almost unknown. That is what makes the narratives of nineteenth century travelers more satisfying than their abundant but pallid modern equivalents.”
Admittedly I read a few chapters then skipped ahead and re-read the chapter on the Galapagos (while actually flying to the Galapagos). I’ve wanted to visit these islands since highschool, so admittedly I’ve lugged some expectations with me...

There is probably a rule about blogging while cranky that is analogous to “Don’t go to bed angry”. Our first day wasn’t great. I am so grateful that Ernesto is such a patient and supportive partner. Both the Quito and Galapagos airports were frustrating, and this is after nine border crossings. There were forms we didn’t have, procedures we didn’t know, cash we didn’t know we needed, incorrect instructions, unlabeled buses, etc. We got to town a little hangry, so we headed right for food, which is crazy overpriced. But not as overpriced as the sunscreen we forgot: cheapest bottle at the farmacia/supermercado was $22. And it was a half bottle. Say nothing of the $12 six pack of 4%ABV “cheap” beer, the $2.50 6 ounce coffee, or the $25 personal pizza. After, we checked into Hotel Suck Fest, who advertises a suite of services they don’t actually provide. The lies about the airport shuttle and wifi and their ridiculous credit card/cash policy I can get over, but when it's 65 degrees outside and I’ve just been snorkeling, I want a shower with hot water. You told me I would be staying in a hotel with hot showers. What's that, only room #9 has a hot water shower? Well then I want room #9. Not joking. We packed up our belongings and got room #9. Ernie may or may not have been exposed to the little bit of New Jersey left in me. Ultimately however, this hotel is just following suit with the financial/customer service rape of the tourists here, so I can’t blame them (although the old man who works here is exempt - he is an adorable mumbler). This is an island chain and the local population pretty much exists to support the infrastructure that makes this kind of “comfortable” tourism possible. They do not have to try hard to provide a service, and E and I can’t blame them for not trying very hard. If our choices are 1) no coffee, 2) mildly expensive instant coffee, and 3) an insanely expensive americano, we are NOT going to choose #1, and we think the millions of Galapagos tourists before us have done the same. In a way it is our fault, as we have trained them to stick it to us. Being here is an affluent privilege, and the local economy is flourishing like a parasite - sucking dollar-by-dollar the hope and joy of geeks everywhere that wanted to come this magical place and experience its endemic flora and fauna. 

The stupidest and funniest part of our first day was right before landing in the Galapagos… The stewardess gets on the microphone and makes an announcement (in Spanish), that says something like “To protect the islands from invasive insects and pests, we are now going to treat your carry on luggage. Please stay seated while we open all the overhead bins and fumigate them.” After all bins were open, two stewardesses slowly parade through the aisle with one arm above their head. The aerosol can is on a steady spray, and it makes a fine white mist on the aisle side of every bag. I’m all about protecting an area from invasive species, but come on Ecuador!  Either you are spraying some kind of Lysol to give the appearance of fumigating our wheely bags, OR you are really spraying a broad-spectrum pesticide that will actually kill a large variety of insects, fungi, etc. If it is the latter, the Ecuadorian government is apparently OK with administering a known carcinogen in a closed air circulation system in a plane thousands of feet in the air. Bueno.

After the ups and downs of actually getting to Isla Santa Cruz (or Isla Indefatigable, which I still can’t pronounce without really concentrating), the sun was shining so we decided to walk to Tortuga Bay. It is about 2.5 km to the bay, then ½ km along Playa Brava, then around a little trail to Playa Mansa. It is very scenic, and very accessible, so there were lots of people. The trail to the playas was a hoot because the finches and lizards were so plentiful and habituated we literally had to watch where we stepped. Playa Brava (the longest beach in all the Galapagos islands), is lovely, but very devoid of macro-sized life. If I needed a place to study interstitial animals I would come here. The stars of the show in Tortuga Bay are the marine iguanas, and they are stars! Big. Ugly. Spitting. Algae crusted mouths. Funny walk (which I impersonate very well). Black bodies with maybe just a bit of pink or yellow.  We would be walking along the trail and then POOF that thing we thought was a stick is a marine iguana. After bumbling about (mostly looking for a place or trail with iguanas but without people) we settled on a spot and watched them for a little while. If you wait, they will come (see YouTube). It was also fun to watch the predictability of the human-iguana interaction. Myself included. Step 1: look. Step 2: pull out camera and take crappy picture. Step 3: pause and move closer for better picture. Step 4: move even closer for even better picture. Step 5: look around for more/something better and move along. The romantic version of these scenes is that epic photo of a marine iguanas face, sort of smiling, with the eye shimmer they get when the sun hits. The reality is a beach with a dozen iguanas and a dozen people with cameras in the animals faces. Iguanas spitting and waiting to cross “the road” of human traffic and get to their sleeping grounds. I love and hate the picture I took of the iguana where you can see the shadow of my iPad. And I straight up hate the high tide mark of Isla Santa Cruz; it is a fine line of microplastic. 

Tuesday we had three major excursions. The first was the Santa Cruz Fish Market. It is small, but packed. And not packed with people, but packed with large animals. Pelicans, frigates, giant herons, and sea lions. (See video). It was bizarre, funny, and sad. The wildlife here isn’t wild. This island is a giant petting zoo. Ernesto made the analogy that the sea lions have filled the niche of street perros in the Galapagos. At one point, one of the sea lions got just a bit too close to one of the tunas caught that morning - like a dog who gets just a bit too close to the turkey on Thanksgiving. And just like a Labrador retriever, one of the women working the fish market gave him a gentle little smack on the head! 

As we learned later, there are tensions between the local fishermen/local fishing practices and the conservation status of the Galapagos. The Ecuadorian government seems to be making some attempts to educate consumers about the legal size limits of fish to help. It was also pretty stunning to see pelicans so close… we have been seeing pelicans since Baja, Mexico, but only from a distance. There was one today that was napping in a little rock patch next to the fish market. His/her water-eyelid was closing off and on, and then his/her real eyelid would close all sleepy like… S/he was clearly in need of a nap but there was too much commotion at the fish market for that to happen.

Our second stop was the Charles Darwin Research Station. It is at the east end of town and the walk there is very touristy: high ends stores with names like “Evolution” and “Selection”, coffee shops with names like “OMG” (not kidding) and “Booby”, and art and jewelry boutiques that sold gemstones and products not mined or produced for thousands of miles. It was despicable. The amount of plastic crap and things known to be bad for conservation that have “Galapagos” plastered on them is sickening…  We had the biggest laugh over the “entrance” to the field station area, where there is an arch and a blue footed booby that clearly mark “the center”; if you stand where one clearly should to capture the moment on film, the background is a shipping container. I had the biggest cry over the visitor’s center itself… While the information they did have was good, and I am stoked they are taking a major interest in conservation and the future, there was not a single placard or exhibit that explained evolution, natural selection, etc. Not a single bit of educational information on what Darwin actually contributed to the realm of biology. Unacceptable. At first I thought maybe they didn’t have room at the facility… they want to focus on today and tomorrow instead of the past/Darwin’s contributions. But when you have a corner area the size of two king sized beds dedicated to “take a selfie inside a tortoise shell”, you have enough room to have an educational exhibit on evolution itself. 

One of the buildings at the Research Station is the tortoise breeding facility, where they are trying to rebuild populations of some of the endangered subspecies of giant tortoise. One could argue both sides (i.e., this is a worthwhile endeavor as well as all this money and time should be going to something else), but it's happening so we educated ourselves about it. There are about a half a dozen or so tortoises in captivity. The first few we saw were cute: one was drinking in his little man-made pond and one was laying in the dust under a cactus. But then we kept walking and saw one slowly (duh) making its way towards its brick wall fence. Ernie said, “It's as though they didn’t move fast enough and humans build a brick wall around them.” I took a picture of one peering up and over the brick wall, and I think the picture sums up the bigger theme of this National Park.

Our third adventure, and one we still aren’t sure we were allowed to do, was tidepooling on the west side of Playa de la Estacion. There were no signs telling us we couldn’t, but knowing what I know, if everyone that visited the Galapagos tide pooled, the tide pools would be destroyed. We flipped many rocks (and carefully returned them all), and given the intensity and position of those rocks, we do not think they have been flipped anytime in the recent past. Again, there was nothing stating we couldn’t, but as a National Park, a private research reserve, and an archipelago where the rule is to not go off the path, it was probably implied that we shouldn’t have been there...  :/ Maybe we figured we’d done enough good nature Karma things to earn it, or maybe we just didn’t want to question it so we could just do it, but ultimately we just did it. And it was great. All the major phyla, and most of the major classes. Two nudibranchs (both dorids), sea hares (small and large), another unknown (to me) opisthobranch, really great brittle stars, stellar sculpins, and some feisty polychaetes (I brushed up against one and its setae impaled in my knuckle - ouchy). Even if it was “illegal”, it was easily the highlight of my visit to the Galapagos Islands. 

And our fourth adventure (after we quickly shoveled down two stale empanadas, because even the cheap street food can be overpriced and shitty here in the Galapagos) was a boat tour of Academy Bay. It was so canned it was silly. 20 minute ride to X, hear a spiel about X, take pictures of X. Repeat for stops Y and Z. We were the only English speakers on the tour, so it was all in Spanish and we stopped trying to understand pretty early. There were however two highlights of the tour. The first was waiting to get on the boat after our first stop, when a blue footed booby flew overhead and showed us his feet. I.e., we have seen lots of blue footed boobies, in fact they were one of the birds we saw from the ferry before we even got on the island. But when they are flying you can’t see their feet, so they just look like brown and white duck things. For whatever reason this individual flew low, just over us, and did a turn-spin thing where he spread his tail and his feet dropped - revealing his gorgeous blue webbed sexy bits to us ever so briefly. The second highlight of the canned tour was one that only those of us on the boat got to see… After the final Z stop of our tour, anyone who wanted to snorkel was given a chance. It was way too cold for me but Ernie braved it along with three other people on our tour (there were 13 total). His beard and mustache are long (time for a trim!) so the seal on his mask wasn’t great, so he had to leave to the group to go to shore and fuss with it. On his way to shore, in between the boat and Ernie, a sea lion went Ernie’s way. It swam behind him and even put his head above water when Ernie got to shore and stood on the rocks. Our narrative is that the sea lion wanted to make sure Ernie was OK, and if he wasn’t the sea lion would have flapped his flippers to give CPR, then after reviving Ernie would have motioned (again with his flippers) to grab on and the sea lion would take him to the boat. 

On our third and final day we took a full day tour to Isabella (or Albamarie), the largest island in the Galapagos. It is a non-trivial two hour boat ride there and back, as the swells in some parts were at least 10 if not 15 feet (I guess this is another perk to traveling during peak season -->calm seas). But luckily Ernesto and I were savvy/pushy enough to ensure outdoor seating both directions (as for those who have been on a relatively small boat in choppy water, you know that if you end up indoors in the lower cabin you are guaranteed to puke your guts out the whole way). After we got to Isabella we were eventually greeted by our guide for the afternoon, Edwin Garcia. A handsome Galapagos native, who was both funny and knowledgeable. There was a little tension at first about the stickers, but we all got over it quickly. Tension over stickers? Yep… the entire tour system and shuffling bodies from island to boat to island to bus is done via visual cues of lanyards and stickers. Your lanyard must match your boat and must be returned to the captain before getting off the boat. Upon landing and paying some sort of fee for some small piece of paper, people with pink stickers go here, people with green stickers go there. Our biggest complaint about this system is that most of the gringos are in some sort of quick-dry polyester that stickers do not adhere to, especially when getting misted with ocean spray for a few hours. So most of the stickers find their way directly to the ocean during transit, including mine. When I noticed mine we were gone and that Ernesto’s was barely hanging on, I removed his and put it on the only cotton clothing we had - my knit cap. Upon meeting our guide Edwin, he was not happy Ernesto was not wearing any stickers…. Ernesto explained they fell off on the boat, and it was all very awkward. When we boarded the bus about 10 minutes later, there was a young Asian man traveling alone who apparently put Edwin’s guest count one over the legal guide limit. He stared at the young man and said, very frankly, “Do you have a sticker?”. Ernie and I were probably the only ones who found it funny… one of the world’s top and greatest eco-tourism locations hinging on stickers. 

Anyway, the tour itself. The first stop was Laguna de Flamingos. There were about a half dozen, and they were lovely. Far away, but a brilliant pink which indicated that the shrimp in the laguna were plentiful; the flamingos stay as long as there are shrimp. As soon as the shrimp population declines, they fly to Ecuador, returning the following season (also, its the shrimp that makes them pink). Edwin made sure to teach everyone on the tour the difference between endemic, native, and introduced species, and he quizzed us about it at each subsequent stop. The second stop was another tortoise breeding center, but unlike the one at the Darwin Research Station, here we got to see baby giant tortoises. I know all baby animals are cute, but there is something particularly cute about the babies of megafauna. Like baby elephants. Elephants are sooo big and the babies are sooo small. Giant tortoise babies give baby elephants a bit of competition only because of quantity. It is rare to see more than one or two baby elephants in a herd, where reptile babies come in gaggles. Piles of baby giants. Adorbs. After a sit-down lunch at a little restaurant in Puerto Villamil, we took a boat tour to see nothing. It was terribly obvious that we were going to see nothing… As soon as we left the pier, Edwin starts with (in Spanish) “People always ask me, where are the penguins? I say, I don’t know. This is not a zoo, is a National Park”. We rode around, wasted gas, looked for penguins that were not there. Which was fine. Ernie and I do know this is not a zoo (despite how it feels like that sometimes). I guess we just wish the entire industry wouldn’t sell us the “Isabella Penguin” tour when they know damn well we aren’t going to see penguins. How about just selling us the Isabella tour?

The final and best stop of the tour was a little inlet somewhere west of Puerto Villamil where we were allowed to walk on land and snorkel. The trail was probably no more than a half of kilometer, but it was visually stunning. From a distance I thought it was white promised-penguin poop, but it was actually a type of lichen. So immediately there is a stark contrast of the blue water, green plants, black rocks, and white lichens. There were lots marine iguanas and bones from dead sea lions. This trail also has the “Tunnel of Sharks”, which is in fact a rock tunnel area full of white tipped sharks! It is warmer in there, and they don’t like it cold this time of year, so they pile in. With the iguanas and the Sally lightfoots lining each side of the cavern, it was quite a sight. After our group walk, those that wanted to snorkel were given 30 minutes of sea time. It was really cold and overcast and we went into the day thinking we were not going to snorkel (especially given Ernesto’s experience the day before). But ultimately sea turtles trumped temperature; there were sea turtles poking their heads up right next to the boat… we were going in! The visibility wasn’t outstanding, but it was good enough to see the critters that were around us. Pencil urchins, sea cucumbers, lots of sculpins and damsels. Brilliant pink and blue parrotfish. The fish highlight was definitely the ~2 foot long pufferfish. And yes! We got to be next to sea turtles. They are so much bigger than I expected, almost intimidating. We got one really nice moment watching one forage on some algae… Bueno. There were probably eight or so snorkeling (the other eight or so just hung on the boat), and for those of us in the water, Edwin stood on the bow of the boat, on the lookout for critters. When he saw a sea turtle or sea lion he would shout out to the closest floating, sort of kicking blob below. Ernesto and I were the farthest away at one point (because we were easily the best swimmers) and I pop my head up to orient myself (as there was a boundary we weren’t to go past). “Sea lion 15m ahead of you!”, he shouts to me. I give a thumbs up, motion to Ernesto, and we head towards it. Again, the visibility was not outstanding and we had no sense of how fast we were moving, so the moment kind of built up as far as when and where the sea lion would appear, if it was even going to still be there at all. I was kind of expecting it at the surface, but it was just floating about 2 meters down, upside down, right there! His eyes were closed when we first saw him (it was a young male), but as he came into view of us and we came into view of him, he opened his eyes and swam right towards us. I let out a gasp of some sort (I think you can hear it in the video). And he continued to swim around us. It isn’t Nat Geo quality, but I love the picture of him looking up at Ernesto. right before he swam underneath him. My narrative is that it is the same sea lion from yesterday; he swam from Santa Cruz to Isabela to, again, make sure Ernesto was OK. Ha! And then as a final treat, when we were done snorkeling and headed back to the pier, a gorgeous male blue footed booby, sitting and preening and his bright blue feet plainly and clearly in view. Bueno. 

Ultimately, despite the economic cost:benefit ratio, we are happy we decided to visit another island. For me, one of the biggest benefits was that I gained a greater appreciation for the sense of scale here. Take Isabella for example. It is the largest island, so it offers the most coast. There are eleven legal places to snorkel, and each either equal to or smaller than a soccer field. I don’t know the square meters, but this must be less than 1%. And this made me less sad and cranky about the zoo factor. Is this the present and future of eco-tourism? 

I always justified (to myself, and probably others) that the benefits of ecotourism outweighed the costs because of two hopeful ingredients. The first is that there was some physiological level of “earning” the experience. Maybe a long, arduous hike - way into to the backcountry of Glacier National Park with blisters on both heels. Or maybe that two hour wait in the hot African sun, tsetse flies getting you about every ten minutes, waiting for the lions to copulate again. Or maybe it was mentally earned instead of physically, where many years of grueling away as a graduate student was what earned your ticket to your close encounters with the birds in Costa Rica. Here in the Galapagos, you do not have to earn the actual wildlife encounter. In fact, in some places you have to try and avoid the wildlife. Many iguanas are found with missing and regenerated tails, and Edwin told me many are from careless tourists stepping on them. On the pier, the sea lions are not only lining the walkways, they actually jump up on the benches where humans are to sit and wait for their boat. How are we to keep two meters from them while also standing in the line we have to stand in to get on the boat? And to be fair, the animals here are “naturally” tame. The frigates did not become habituated to the fish market, they were never afraid of the fish market to begin with. Even Darwin wrote about the tameness of the animals here (quote is a little out of order for effect): “A gun is almost superfluous, for with the the muzzle I pushed a hawk off a branch… Finches, wrens, … the dove and carrion-buzzard; all of them (can be) approached sufficiently near to be killed with a switch, and sometimes, as I myself tried, with a cap or hat” :0

The second ingredient that I think is necessary to be defined as a valuable eco-tourism experience has to do with the tourist him/herself.  Ideally the person who experienced the elephant or macaw or kangaroo would take that experience with them, and hopefully do something (small or large) that was less about them and more about their local or global biological systems. And then when enough people had these magical moments with nature, there could be a real, productive, global shift into giving a fuck. Without interviewing each one, it is impossible to say how each tourist is affected by their experiences with animals. For those that sit and watch, wait and listen, smile and move gently, I can hazard a good guess that they were positively affected by what they experienced. For others, it is harder to understand what it is they wanted and received out of the interaction. For example, on Tortuga Bay I watched a young woman take off her cover up and, in her mini bikini, lay down on a branch next to a sea lion. She assumed a pose that was on par with the 2016 Sports Illustrated centerfold. As another example, I have seen a very fit and sun kissed young man take a selfie while flexing in front of an iguana. Why was he flexing? Was he going to punch the iguana? Did the iguana do something that made him feel he needed to demonstrate his masculinity? Between the selfies and the poses - it's like their time here is analogous to right after they broke the pinata. They scramble so frantically to collect the sweet moments they don't’ even know what they are collecting. As a steward of ethology and evolution, it is hard to see those tourist experiences as respectable because it is really hard to imagine the ecological experience they are taking with them. As Ernie says, there are iguanas here have more of an internet presence than he does. 

Ernie nailed it when it put together some thoughts of Darwin’s with what he has seen in the Galapagos… Back then, as the preface of the Voyage noted, travel for the sake of travel was nonexistent. In fact, Charles writes about how, in the early to mid 1800’s, if a traveler showed up at your door (either in England or anywhere in South America), the host was expected to welcome you, feed you, and make a bed for you. This was because being a traveler required some sophistication; not just anyone could travel from England to Brazil or vice versa. It is true that this level of sophistication was likely almost exclusively achieved in the upper class/wealthy folks, but it still required a level of experience or education. And this experience was respected, because those people were (presumably) doing things to make the world a better place for all people, so hosting travelers was the moral and selfish and altruistic thing to do. Today, there is no sophistication or experience required to travel. One must do nothing to earn travel. One must have cash or a credit card.

(Pause)

We are back in Quito. The bikes are safe and with some good Wifi again, we have a planned route South. 

Entonces… maybe all of this is just one long diatribe and/or displaced anger because I’m pissed off that I lost my sweatshirt in the Galapagos. My one and only sweatshirt that packed down so very small I could justify taking it with me as one of eight pieces of clothing. Grr. 

September 9
​About 20 km out of town we came to a dead stop. The best we can figure is that it has something to do with horses. Rodeo kind of stuff, as that was the only commotion in town, and the roadblock was clearly in town. We were parked on the highway for a little over an hour, but luckily it wasn’t hot (in fact, it has gotten chilly). Ernesto had a truck driver chat him up for a good 20 minutes, and because our headsets were on the entire time I got entertained as well (and helped translate once or twice). Other than our delay we had an easy, cloudy, high and dry 200 km to Cayambe. There was a little sugarcane, but no other crops (the soil is very sandy). Very little trees, and mild topography. It is nice for sure, but unfortunately for Ecuador it has a hard act to follow… 

We have to pay tolls in Ecuador. Boo. $.20 each, so a total pain in the ass to deal with coins and change and receipts and gloves… After the second toll we stopped at the booth to try and buy an “Easy Pass”/ pre-paid something. This was all possible, but not at this particularly toll booth. He old us exactly where to find another, but I didn’t understand… While we were gearing back up to head back on the highway a small version of Ludwig went out of his way to pull up next to us in his white pickup truck. “I am Hans!” he said enthusiastically. He runs a campground in the next town if we need a place to say, as he caters to Overlanders. And if we do not need a place to stay, maybe he will tell other Overlanders about him. He was very kind and welcoming, and if we hadn’t already had a booking we likely would have followed him. He said two other USAmericans arrived today on motos. Rad.

We are staying on the southern end of Cayambe at a nice and cheap hotel/hostel whose claim to fame is surely the gaggle of adorable white rabbits they have on site. Ack! It is possible that the pedestrian gate as well as the locked gate for the parking area are entirely for the rabbits and have nothing to do with the security of the guests/guest vehicles. We are right next to Cayambe’s large city park with a pond (including paddle boats) and some serious jungle gym action. Even Ernie and I participated in the slide-swing thing. I went first, and before I actually swung myself over the ledge I asked the kid next to me, “Es seguro?”. He laughed and as he was laughing said “Si, es seguro”. It was very reminiscent of the boy that lied to me about the pool in Guatemala. 

Tomorrow we ride to Tababela, which is just a few kilometers south of Quito’s airport. Why? We are headed to the Galapagos for a few days :0 We fly there Monday morning and come back late Thursday. This was not the plan for next week, but after just a little Googling we found some very cheap last minute flights and hotel, and the final piece was where to leave our motos and then that worked out with amazing grace… all the signs pointed to DO IT. Yes, it is off season there and it will be cold (too cold to snorkel??). Yes, we will only be going to one island and only for a few days. Yes, this is NOT the way to do the Galapagos; a proper visit would require a boat that went when and where I told it to for 20-30 days. But that trip is not coming anytime soon, and for how cheap we got our truly last minute deals (we booked just a few days ago), we decided to do it. Ack! My wish list is (in alphabetical order): booby, iguana, penguin, and tortoise. 

September 10
After a morning of making coffee with the bunnies, my blonde struck hard today. I knew the equator was in Ecuador, but I never put it together that Ecuador is actually named after the equator, as this is the only place along the equation where they have the space and topography to have understood the rotations and cycles of the Earth and Sun. Like, oh my god, like, that is wow... groovy. Like wow. There are three equator “places”/ monuments in Ecuador: two north of Quito and one just south of Cayambe. The biggest and most famous one (one of the ones North of Quito) is the one built in the wrong place (in the 30’s or so), and now there is a second ~100 meters or something away from that original one. Today we visited the one South of Cayambe, which is no frills. It is basically a giant sundial, made out of cobblestone, and then a bathroom named “The Fake Equator Museum” to make fun of the other facility that put their enormous, expensive monument in the wrong place. This attraction/sundial was built in 2005 by a non-profit research group who kindly requests/demands $2 each to enter. We could have paid $10 bring our motos in for a photo op, but we both felt that was over the top. Despite our loathing of the canned spiel, it was actually quite informative. They have a mission to revision the globe; since the Earth spins East to West and that “North” actually means “left” (as in north is to the left when you look at the sun rise), they want to see maps of the world flipped 90 degrees to the left. The “Global Left” instead of the “Global North”. Cool. 

By 1 pm we were at our hotel and host until post-Galapagos. This suburb of Quito is very flat and very quiet - we are kind of unsure what everyone else is/does around here. The hotel itself is very quaint, very lovely, and they have everything we need. Our bikes and gear are secure under a shed, and we have transport to and from the airport. We had a nice chat with an Aussie who is here ready to depart for home after nine years here in Ecuador. He answered our questions about the weather, as Ernie and I have both been surprised…. It is a few weeks shy of the solstice, so Ecuador is getting a lot of sun. We are high, but not that high (few thousand feet). Why is it so cloudy, cool, and chilly? We knew Ecuadorians rocked the sweater thing, but we thought it was that Harry-Met-Sally kind of “they are cold when it's 72 degrees”, not a real 50-60 degree cold. Our Aussie friend explained to us that here the weather moves East to West, so Ecuador gets all the moisture from the Amazon rainforest. Like, oh my god, like, that is wow... groovy. 

After we checked in and got all our gear put away, we walked around “town” (i.e., a quiet five block radius - so quiet you could have heard a guinea pig fart in a field). We found some pizza (at a really cool little restaurant), a mini-mart run by a friendly and chatty young man, and we are currently all packed and ready for an early morning flight to Isla Santa Cruz. Bueno.

The jefe (as the staff calls him) of this hotel is a young fellow named Dom, and based on Ernie’s last interaction with him, we think he is a big time stoner. In addition to many other curios not normally offered by a hotel this size and this far off the beaten path, he offers cash in exchange for PayPal payments, so we took advantage of that for our upcoming travel. After doing the payment on my iPad, Ernie went to the office to collect the cash. 

“Yeah”, Dom says, “That's good... Yeah… it went through.” He takes out a stack of 20’s. “One…”, and slowly tosses a 20 bill on the counter. Pause. “Two…”, and slowly tosses a second 20 bill on the counter. 

20’s are slowly moved from hand to table. With a few hundred in this deal, Ernesto’s patience comes in handy. 

Ernie says “What's with the soccer game outside? Does that happen often?” 

Dom says, “Yeah... That goes on.” 
Pause. 
“You can play if you want”. 

Ernie says, “It does look like fun”. 

“Yeeaaaahhhh.” 

Dom might have been the most interesting human interaction of the day, but Jenny of Miami gets that prize today. As soon as we arrived to the equator attraction there was a family in a white SUV, with Ecuador plates. Ernie is ahead of me on the gravel road and I can hear a woman talking to him in English through our headsets, so it was all a bit surreal. She is saying things like “It's you! I’ve been following you! I can’t believe it!”. Ernie starts talking with the husband and father and I talk with her and her sister/friend. Over the next five minutes I learn the following (in no particular order): she is a writer who has come to escape the hurricane, she rides motos as well, she has been inspired by us, she has two young boys and as soon as they are old enough she wants to be an overlander too. I was getting my picture taken with her before I even got off the bike. She was so very sweet and I really enjoyed her energy. However! I am still convinced we are not the droids she is searching for… I think she mistook us for another couple. She said I was on Instagram, and we are not Instagramming. I told her as much, but she said repeatedly it was me - she was confident based on the bike and what I looked like... What are the odds there is another female adventure rider doing this trip on a blue Triumph Tiger? She said she was going to email me and I really hope she does. First so that I can verify that I am not this interweb person she has been following (ha!), and second so that I can nag her every so often over the next 10 years to be getting ready for her trip from Miami to Ushuaia. You go girl. 

September 7
​Another stunning day in Colombia. We did about 250 km from Popayan to Pasto, and there were three types of habitat. First, for about 50 km south of Popayan it was lots of rolling hills, grapes, oranges and mandarins, and eucalyptus farms. Tranquilo, good pavement, and slow going because of the windy road. Second was a ~100 km stretch along the basin/base of the mountains. Hot and very dry; all humidity was gone for the first time since western Baja. The pavement was good so we got to go 60-70 km/h to get in some km on this long day. And then third, the 100 km stretch north of Pasto. Desert. Dramatic. Dangerous. Delightful. Drop offs. Damn... At one point we were on the ridge itself… we think we found it on the topo map and posted it on our pics. The elevational changes were as dramatic as the other day - today was only 5000-6000 feet (you know, instead of 8000-10,000, NBD). 

I got a great bird sighting today (unfortunately Ernie missed it as it flew in between us while riding) - a Moctezuma Oropendola. Admittedly I had no idea what I saw when I saw it, other than an amazing tail. Bright, vibrant yellow with a black stripe, and fanned out in such an elaborate way.  It had a black/brown body and a splash of color at the head (Bill? Spot? Crest? Crown? I didn’t know). There are only two birds in the world have a tail like that though, and only one lives on this continent, so process of elimination led me to the correct ID. It is another bird I use as a case study in one of my classes, so I feel more legit having actually seen one in person now. 

We took many wrong turns in Pasto to find our hotel (even took the same wrong way twice), but we eventually figured it out. We were way more tranquilo about the whole thing, which was probably a combination of Colombia and us (i.e., both are different now...)  And like all previous stops in Colombia, as soon as we stopped a man came up to help us. He was very kind and he was exited for us and our journey. We did some research tonight about Ecuador, and we think we have a plan… 

Coverage and love of Papa continues on the media, and admittedly we are sad to leave. Tomorrow we cross the border to Ecuador, and we so happy we got to experience Colombia. Our time here has been so joyful, so pleasant, so stunning… the kind of memories we do not need notes to remember. Colombia was so very good to us and even better for us; we are better people for experiencing this country. It has made a lasting impression on us, and we are so grateful. 

September 8
We got a picturesque goodbye from an orange cat on the rooftops in Pasto... 

We weren’t quite sure what to expect at the border crossing, as even though we technically had a border in Cartegena, Ludwig and a fixer kind of took care of everything. The first obvious difference was that there was a nice, large, building with obvious parking. These things shouldn’t be a suprise for a customs building, but after Central America, they are. All the aduana are in uniform. We get rushed by four men! They are asking us to exchange our Colombian Pesos for USDollars for a decent exchange rate. We do. End scene. No one else bothers us. Huh? How are we supposed to play human dodgeball between our motos and these two buildings if there aren’t a few dozen sleezy men to harrass us? Oh, guess we can just do our thing peacefully? Ok. Bueno. Maybe it will get chaotic on other side… yeah, thats it. After about 15 minutes of cancelling vehicle papers and getting an exit stamp, we cross the bridge to Ecaudor. We get rushed by two men and one woman! Do you need to exhange your pesos or need to buy cell phone minutes? We say, no, gracias. And they go away. And they do not come back… no one bothers us for the next hour. We waited peacefully in line, signed three forms, made NO photocopies, and were given NO little pieces of paper to give to someone else. There was even a special lane for people that require an extra bit of time and patience (eldery, pregnant, with lots of ninos, etc.). Bueno. When we went to leave the parking lot there were two exits, and one made us go through the police line, but was terribly inconvenient to try and ride to. So I walked up on foot and asked if we should go out and go through them or just siga to the highway. They said just siga. Ok… Bueno! Bienvenidos a Ecuador!

Not knowing about the ease of the border crossing or our plans for Ecuador, we booked a hotel in the first town, Tulcan. It is nothing fancy, nothing for tourists. Just locals and life and guinea pigs roasting on a rotisserie (they are a speciality here). With a block system and well marked one-way streets, we were at our hotel in a jiffy. Unfortunately Tulcan closes from 1-2 for lunch, so we rode around, parked in the shade, and ate some Cheetos. Two lovely ladies (late 50’s?) walked by and said “Buenos Tardes!!!” In fun and jaunty voices. They wanted to know our deal, and when we told them we were staying IN Tulcan tonight they were very happy. They told us to be sure and check out the plaza, the cemetery, and to get some good food. Bueno. Post check in we head out (so about 2:30-3 pm) and about 15 blocks in the other direction we are walking and a lovely woman says “Buenas Tardes!!” Ha! It was one the same women as earlier, in her purple hat. Big smiles by all, including the men she was sitting with that were looking at her like “Who are your new gringo friends amiga??”. It pays to be the only gringos in town. That happened at the plaza, so she pointed us in the right direction for our next stop, the cemetery. We were a little skeptical, as she described it as “bonito”. But it was quite a sight. We had seen one cemetery like this before, but it was another to see it up close. Between the walls and the plants and the portions that were built but not yet home to the deceased… it was a lot. 

After, we took the long way back to the plaza, visiting local shops and fondling local goods (to Bonnie, and I am sorry for the woven array of gifts I left behind that I wanted to buy you). We also went in to several supermarkets/mercados - they are co-ops where locals have a booth selling whatever they want. Mostly it was fresh fruit and veggies, but also a decent array of plastic neccessities, homemade crafts, and meats. The pig head was pretty disturbing (although not as disturbing as the guinea pigs spinning about). But neither animal product kept us from wanting some real food and protein, as our last was the mustard steak shit show. So we went to“Pollo Alf”, which was on a great street corner just off the plaza (note, great location, not great food). After we sat down we got greeted by “Choriza” (or so she was later named by us). Skinny, blonde, and adorable. She hung out in the doorway until the very end of our meal, until another perro (Bully #1) intimidated her away. But what Bully #1 didn’t know is that we had already made a promise to Choriza, which was that we would give her the cup of chicken that we didn’t eat from our soup. The soup was very good (broth, cilantro, onions, carrots), but the chunks in it were things like trachea, liver, stomach, etc., so we collected them into a Dixie cup and promised we would meet her around back. (We are happy Ecuadorian restuarnats are using the whole chicken, but we are elite USAmericans and we only eat chicken muscle tissue). We leave the restaurant and Bully #1 isn’t around. Great! We head down the block, motion for Choriza to follow, and dump the entire Dixie cup of gizzards in a corner. She moves in but then moves away… Bully #1 has swooped in, growled and intimidated Choriza away! No. Not ok. This must be rectified. We made a promise and I was feeling so terribly bad for teasing her with this pile of meat that got taken from her… That and the fact that Choriza seems to have figured out Gringos. Ernie and I believe that she found US at that restaurant on the square. She knew that 1) trachea would be served and that gringos would not eat it, 2) gringos don’t kick or throw things at dogs, so she did the math and concluded that if she sat looking cute we would give her our trachea. The street scene is that she is the smart one and the dumb Bullies are taking advantage of her savvy-ness. 

Ernie and I wanted to go the supermercado anyway (to get ice for my foot, which no El Marko - is not amputated :) so we first look at dog food/treats, but then find unbelievably cheap meat in the meat section. $.69 for four mini chorizo hot dog type things. And they are absolutely packaged for human consumption, so they must be some sort of FDA approved -->the dog isn’t going to die if we feed her meat this cheap. We buy it along with some ice and make our way back to the plaza, and despite still being 5-6 blocks away who comes walking our way but Choriza! I reach into my bag for the chorizo meat and two other dogs approach, Bully #2 (big) and Bully #3 (tiny). They bark and growl, telling Choriza to get off their turf. Her tail curls between her legs and she runs away. Ernie and I follow and luckily the two Bullies go the other direction. Only two blocks later we get her attention and I toss her the first of four sausages. She gobbles it down. I scan the area and still no other sign of any other perros. I throw the second, missing her mouth (as those who know me know I can’t throw worth a damn), but she finds it quickly. I ask Ernie if he wants the last two, both because he can throw and because he might want the satisfaction. He says no, but mostly because he doesn’t want the slimy meat ick on his fingers (he is a smart man). I quickly throw the third, and Choriza compensates for my inadequacies and catches it her mouth, chews once and swallows. I’m so excited and happy over the third throw that I throw the fourth and final sausage about four feet away from her mouth (despite aiming) and the sausage tumbles under a car. But she gets it no problem. The locals are staring but I don’t care. Choriza!!!

September 5
Easy-peasy breezy day. We rode low in between two mountainous areas on a well paved four lane divided highway in mostly sunny skies for about 125 km. Facil. There were lots of signs for “Fauna Silvestre” (or forest fauna) that we hoped to see, but ended up with a short wildlife list today of some curlew-types, herons, egrets, and two storks. Ernesto and I mostly lost ourselves in our own thoughts. The added crop to the day (other than cows and coffee) was uvas (grapes). There were stands on the roadside selling bunches a meter long! About 100km into our ride we saw a sign for “Jardin Biologica 5 km”. It was only about noon so we figured what the heck, let's go find it! We wound around some very narrow roads and through a larger town… we took the three major ways that went through town to find it but couldn’t. So back to the highway we went. We did however find a purple tree. No green leaves on it, just two to three stories tall of deep purple flowers. 

It is Ernesto’s birthday eve. He is napping. I gave him a cold for his Birthday :( I am on the mend and he is on day two. Who else but Grandma & Grandpa catch colds on the equator in summer time? I am happy for him to rest. With the good wifi here in Buga I found us some hotels through the rest of Colombia (I wonder if the wifi is just strong because it isn’t raining??). Our hotel is cute, right on the river and right by everything. We walked four blocks to the big grocery store and the main plaza (more on that in a moment) is just five or so blocks away. Buga, unlike its name, is very adorable and welcoming. The hotel staff and policies are a mystery to us. We had to park our bikes a certain way in the garage, then we had to leave the keys with the desk when we left the hotel (i.e., the hotel keys can’t ever leave the hotel… wha?). When I asked where we could find a store, she asked “What do you want to buy?”. And then it got awkward when she would only tell us where to go if we told her what we wanted… And then earlier when I asked a maid about the pool (part of why we picked this place as we knew we were having an early day so mind as well spend $4 extra dollars on a hotel with a pool). Five minutes later we get a phone call from the front desk - “You are looking for the pool? We don’t have one but we can give you passes to the community pool”. If Ernesto was feeling better perhaps we would have ventured that, as I’m sure that would have been entertaining. And then when we got back from dinner we got another call, and she wanted two things. First to let us know we couldn’t keep that food on the bike (leftovers we wanted to feed to street perros), and second, that there is a moto friend of the hotel that speaks English and if we have any questions or want to talk to a moto friend about moto things she can give us his name. Ok… gracias! But unfortunately its now 8 pm and Grandma & Grandpa blog and go to to bed. And the coup de grace of mystery hotel procedures… the toilet paper. It is a napkin dispenser. You pull a thin, one-ply 8” by 4”square at a time out of a box that says “familia”. No bueno.

After he awoke from his slumber I showed him a website I found of “good places to eat in Buga Colombia”. He selected Holy Water Ale Pub and we set out on foot. We marveled at the streets, the homes, the shops.. all leading to the town’s center plaza. It is very large, at least ten blocks long by two or three blocks wide. There are at least three churches, two on each side and a grand one at the east end. It is all brick and flat cobblestone. There are many shops along the north and south sides and they focus exclusively on Catholic goods. Goods? Memorabilia? Stuff? I really don’t know the word to use. But if you are in the market for a crucifix, a rosary, a statue of a saint or any member of the Holy Trinity, or a portrayal of the last supper (in two or three dimensions), this is the place for you. We went into three or four shops. It was fascinating. The largest shop we went into had a seemingly endless combination of choose-your-own-crucifix. First, select the cross type: wood, metal, woven, etc. Second, select expression/state of Jesus: peaceful, suffering, hopeful, etc. And third, select accessories. For example, if there are crowns or dressings, possible materials include beads, metal alloys, shells, crocheted or embroidered fabrics, etc. As strange as it sounds, I was inspired to do some legitimate shopping. And woah. As we came to learn later in the evening, today is the day Pope Francis arrived in Colombia. Over the next four days he will visit Bogota, Medellin, Villavicencio, and Cartagena. All the Pope hype is making so much more sense now. So to Gram when you read this, with Ernesto’s help in the selection process, I bought you a rosary the day the Pope arrived.

​Gram is 98 and does not know I am on this trip. At a Tara-family gathering at my brother’s house in May we told everyone (but Gram) that we were headed to Argentina on motos, and through each individual conversation with my father, my brother, my Uncle John (my Gram’s son and my mother’s brother), my cousin JP, etc. the repeated theme was “Don’t tell Gram”. She would worry too much and she has been through so much it was probably best to not stress her out. So against my better judgement, we didn’t tell her. However, the first item on my to-do list after we get to Ushuaia safe and sound is to write my dear Erminia and tell her what we have done, that we are safe now, that I bought her a rosary in Colombia, and that I look forward to giving it to her soon. 

We would also like to add to our list: 
Pope on a keychain
Pope on a puffy sticker

*Our souvenir count is up to four items: 1) Wal-Mart bag from Tapachula, 2) postcard of 18K TEU container ship in the new locks at Panama Canal, 3) “Ernesto” beaded bracelet, and 4) rosary for Gram. My list of souvenir items that I wish I could have bought and find a way to bring home continues to grow exponentially… 

Oh - and the evidence of moto culture and respect also grows. In small towns like Buga and Cartago the traffic lights turn yellow before they turn green. We can think of no reason to do this for cars, only motos. I.e., put your visor down, put the bike in gear, etc. etc. Rad.  We also got a picture today of the sign out front the toll booths that say, clear as day, “Motos do not pay the toll”. Rad. And while I was there snapping pictures a road train of sticks came by. Five trailers long, and full of sugar cane. There is a lot of sugar cane around here, but its still hard to imagine that it is cost effective to transport them this way. 

Post-plaza we walked to the second floor “pub” at the intersection of Calle 5 and Carretera 13 and got one of their two outdoor seating areas (so small… the table was the size of a check board and the chairs were the size of basketballs). They brewed their own beer (wha?!?!?) and we ordered some delightful I.P.A.’s. It was FUN to sit and watch the street. The way people move about… the way pedestrians and bicyclists and scooters and small cars and buses all frogger and shuffle around these narrow clean streets… there is a flow. A tranquilo chaos about it. And the sounds that accompany it - there are no roaring engines or heavy revving or bangs or thumps. There are gentle beeps to signal “I’m not stopping” or “I’m going” and subtle whistles that men use to catch the attention of others. It is by no means quiet, but the sounds aren’t annoying or offensive or angry like they seem to be in NYC or LA. And then add the visual accompaniments of colorful buildings and/or their flags and signs, the mass amounts of tangled wires adorned with epiphytes, the church steeples in the background, and the street lights that are bright (or dull) enough that you don’t really notice them unless you look. Amor.

September 6
FELIZ CUMPLEANOS ERNESTO!!! Ernesto turns 50 today, which is still rather unbelievable to me. He is such a youthful hunk. I am so lucky to have met him and fallen in love with him and me and us… 

Another easy peasy drive from Bugo to Popaya, about ~200 km. Lots of sugar cane, sugar cane road trains, and fires. At first we thought it was rain, then pollution, then we realized it was the sugarcane harvest -->burn after sweetness. Ash was falling from the sky… at first it brought smiles and then it was sad. Hopefully it's such a short seasonal event here that the environment/climate doesn’t suffer long term consequences?!?

So, Ernie’s 50th. It is a decent birthday so I of course wanted to fuss a little. When I searched online there was a clear division of hotels in Popayan, Colombia. Well, truth be told there is a clear division of hotels in most of the towns we have stayed since arriving in Colombia… There is the $20-30 a night room, which usually have AC or a fan, maybe an elevator, perhaps free breakfast, and unlikely a pool. Almost always they have one towel, and almost always we can ask for another towel. Can’t think of a time there wasn’t a type of soap provided, but it's 70/30 split on shampoo, and a 10/90 split on conditioner. All but once these rooms have included a sheet or blanket. No joke, the room a few nights ago there was no sheet or blanket. Just the fitted sheet and pillow case covers. And the pillow case covers were embroidered! How did they have enough money to monogram the pillowcases but not buy a plain white sheet for every room? I digress… Then there is the $50-80 a night room, which has every bell and whistle that Ernie and I would think was both amazing and excessive. For example, a mini fridge, more than one chair, more than one window, cable, one or more outlets to charge things, four pillows (all with comfortable cases).  Or the holy grail: parking that is secure enough to leave all the cases on the bike. And yes, there are even cheaper places sometimes for $10-20 a night but our first filter is private/secure parking area, as if the motos get stolen, this whole thing comes to an end, so we figure that is worth at least $10 a night. Anyway,  point is, like I said before, you only turn 50 once and all the $20-30 places had parking that wasn’t exactly on site, which means lugging cases around the block, so I splurged. I say “I” and not “we” because I did it while Ernie was sleeping yesterday. 

So here we are at Hotel Dann Monasterio. It is crazy fancy. Ernie and I giggled a lot as we were proceeded along through the entrance, courtyard, fountain, etc. There is a grand church attached/next door, and this was the monastery back in the day that has been remodeled to be a classy four or five star resort (we can get massages and sit in a Turkish bath). We have heavy linens, candles, cool light fixtures, a tub, and lots of maudlin paintings in our room, in the hallway, or in the lobby. One of the coolest features in our room is the fire extinguisher (wonder if it works?). There are two tall, thick, wood, double doors that go out to a lovely patio. There were no chairs on it so we drug out the two ancient leather chairs from our room (probably not ok with the hotel), had a beer, and watched the people and comings and goings of Popayan.

After our relaxing afternoon we headed out on foot to explore the nearby plazas and shops (as of course, Hotel Dann Monasterio has a 10/10 location rating). The main plaza… woah. First, the church bells. There were real men up in the tower ringing the bells with giant ropes (see Youtube vid). Ok, “ringing” may be an exaggeration. They were clanging bells enthusiastically. Or just clanging the bells however as they were probably deaf from years of ringing the bells. But it was real humans, not an automated program. And then second, on the other end of the plaza, there was a giant TV screen set up. As we approached we wondered, “Pope or soccer?”. Luckily for me and my deepest cynicism it was the Pope, and the town was gathering to watch the Pope’s arrival, transport, and speech in Bogota. I bought yet another goodie for my Gram - a Pope flag. Souvenir five. We took one more long loop before dinner and found a little leather shop that sold belts, wallets, saddles and all one could want for your saddle. As novelties they also sold mini-saddles, and they caught Ernie’s eye. I was so pleased when he made the call to buy souvenirs number six, which was a mini saddle. It is so detailed, so intricate. We are going back tomorrow to buy another. 

Add to list:
Pope on a flag
Pope as a life sized cut out
Pope on local TV

And then to La Cosecha for dinner. The plan was steaks and a decent bottle of red wine. It started off OK… the wine was good (enough) and they brought this great tray of sauce type things to put on your steak (churrasco, horseradish, etc.). But then the actual steaks arrived. Ernesto ordered the mustard steak, which we understood to be a steak seared in mustard seed or powder, maybe a little salt, pepper, mustard mix. Sounds good right? No… it was a steak with a cup (two cups?) of yellow mustard poured on top. No bueno. I ordered the filet mignon. Which apparently here means to be served very rare, in three cups of brown gravy, and with bacon and mushrooms. I never do this, but I couldn’t waste the meat so I sent it back to be cooked some more, and then traded with Ernie so he wouldn’t have to eat that much yellow on his birthday. No meat was wasted, and neither of us have puked yet. And all while two restaurant staff were trying to fix the door in front of us, and its a big restaurant with lots of open tables and no other people but us no people (as we ate at 5 pm, a.k.a., old people hour), so really La Cosecha? You had to be fussing with the one thing by us for the one hour we were there? Ultimately we had lots of laughs, lots of smiles, and it will be a great memory.

Ernesto, what would you like to add to your birthday post?
“I like Colombia very much. I like it that every time we have stopped and have been thinking about directions someone has approached us and asked if they could help.” 

Then a brief pause. Then I watch him play with his saddle… he is bouncing it on the bed. I ask him about it. He says, as if it should be obvious, “You’ve never just aimlessly played with something?”

My mom would have turned 72 today… And she would have loved reading this blog. We had a wonderful, wonderful day. Like yesterday, we had a RIDE. It started with ~40 km of uphill. Up and up and up. But unlike yesterday, we had perfect weather. Blue sky, small puffy white clouds, and it was in the high 70’s- low 80’s (until later in the day anyway). Colorful homes with big windows and porches, lots of wild and planted flowers, and earthy and pleasant smells… it was all just lovely.  And the icing on the cake to the start of our day: we had to wait for about 30 minutes of construction traffic until we got to ride the uphill. Why is that a good thing? Not only do motos have their own free toll lane, and not only is it common practice for motos to ride to the front of any queue, but motos sometimes also get to go when no one else can. So after our 30 minutes of sitting in the queue this morning, the Traffic Master of the Barricade let all the motos through but none of the cars or trucks. Turns out they were painting the lines in the middle of the road, so our best hypothesis is that the motos would just follow along and not make a mess of the paint, unlike many of the cars or trucks that might swerve around on those narrow winding roads. Anyway, imagine a 30-40km uphill climb on smooth pavement on one of the most scenic route you can imagine… And then add the luxury of no cars or trucks in your way. Just riding. Sonrisas. Ernie and I agree that motos aren’t just a cheap means of transportation here; they are part of the culture and identity of Colombia (perhaps like USAmerican’s and their SUV’s, but more admirable?). We have seen every type of human (and human combo) on a moto. Old, young, male, female, blue collar, white collar. Male cops ride double and mom’s will pile on four children. Dogs in baskets and eggs on the floor boards. Very old women riding side saddle and very old men facing backwards. 

We plateaued in a town called Versalles, and Ernie and I were both in awe of how it, and its buildings, are still standing. The entirety of it looked as though it could fall to the cliffs below with a strong breeze. After about 30-40km along the ridge top (ahh) we began a 50-60 km drop down. And like yesterday, none of the safe 2-4% grade - 6-8% at least ha ha! The views were gorgeous. The cows, homes, and roads that are cut into and live along the mountain side…  The colors were bright and everything seemed clean and tranquilo. We saw lots of signs for animals that could have been crossing the road: foxes, iguanas, squirrels, pumas, anteaters, serpents, armadillos, monkeys, and a hopping rat of some sort (and to LD nerd alert - they write the full latin names on the signs). We did not see any of these animals (boo hoo). But we did see some good morphos. We took our break of the day in La Pintada, where Ernie braved the tienda on the corner that was selling bread-pastry things and cold drinks. He bought us two cokes sin azucar and two… things. The first was a corn dough shell with chicken, onion, and potato insides. Bland, but two of them with a bottle of hot sauce could make a hearty lunch. The second was a hamburger patty (sort of), dipped in egg (we think), then deep fried (or pan seared). It was… It was… Well it was worth eating so that when we get back home we can try and make them ourselves, because we see a lot of potential there. 

I wish I could put into words how beautiful Colombia is. Ernie and I have both said this country, its sights and its vibe, are unlike anything we have experienced. I don’t understand why driving or riding a car or moto or bicycle across this country isn’t on everyone’s stereotypical bucket list like running a marathon or going to the Great Wall of China. On second thought, maybe it is a good thing that this part of the world isn’t on everyone’s radar. It isn’t pristine here, but it has an obvious balance of people using resources that is working. More tourists would probably mess that up. 

We found a color coded topo map online (see pic on Google maps). Note the area we rode yesterday and today (north and south of Mendellin, Hwy 25 and others), and note how the colors go from green to purple, basically skipping orange and red (or as Tara would say, POOF ther goes 4000 feet). When we zoomed out of the topo map, we saw a clear pattern of green to purple that takes us all the way to the tip of Argentina :0

After our downhill ride we eventually came back down to the river and (for the most part) followed it to Cartago where we are spending the evening. Many vendors selling their tilapia on the side of the road (or was that yesterday?). Unfortunately there was a lot of construction - more construction than we have had thus far. At one point it took us 2 hours to go 30km. Although during some of those construction periods we got to see the crazy shit they are doing, like bulldozing dirt off cliffs (see Google maps pic). Those stops added up to what was likely 2-3 hours of just “sitting on road” time. We went ~225 km today and we were on the bikes for almost 8 hours (not including breaks). We got stared at a lot during the construction wait periods, but so far it has been our experience that if we smile at the person staring, they immediately smile back and usually (but not always) give us a shout out. I had a nice chat with a man from Colombia who (after the staring -->smiling thing) got out of his car and talked to me about where we were from and what we were doing, where we were going, etc. As is seemingly standard in SAmerica, I started in Spanish and after my fumbling was too much to bear, my conversationalist companion switched to English. (Side note, there are different words for everything here! The language barrier has widened, not narrowed). It was a long but great day. But we were both so happy to be doing it because it was so stunning. And outside of one or two long waits in the sun, we got pretty lucky with our wait times for the construction/whether the sign said “Siga” (go) or “Pare” (stop). We saw a rainstorm in the distance, and only got enough sprinkles to cool us down once we got about 30km outside of Cartago. The town is flat, paved, and in a numbered grid system so even though we got “lost” trying to find our hotel, it was easy (and almost fun) to square around the blocks looking for where we were supposed to be. There is a beautiful town square that was filled with old people and loud birds that weren’t grackles. 

Again, I thank Elaine for all our good fortunes and experiences today. XO Mom!