Rough Rider - Loja, Ecuador

River rocks & sand used as road surface from Limon to Gualaquiza.

Reverse camber bridge down the road from Yantzaza.

Jan. 13, 2010

We ignored the roosters and bull horn and had a slow start this morning. Our main objective was to mail off some postcards which took forever and we rolled out of town at noon. We back tracked from Banos back into the Amazon turning due south at the town of Puyo, following Route 45. Our plan was to ride a few hundred kilometers through the Amazon jungle and then cut straight over the Corridllerra towards Cuenca. Alas we could not find the road we needed to head over the mountain as there were no signs on the dirt road with a dozen different available turnoffs. After driving to a dead end we gave up and continued south on the perfectly new asphalt paved in 2009 road. Greg was getting bored with the perfect road conditions and then abruptly we began ascending through twisty turny roads once again.

With only a half hour of daylight left, we pulled into the town of Limon. Here we found a Residencia for $12 and bedded down for the night with crying babies, barking dogs, latino music, and the occasional rooster crowing for no apparent reason. I slept right through it all.

Jan.14, 2010

We were up and out of Limon at 8am, and for a town that you can see from end to end, it was very confusing to try and find your way out. We discovered that in 2009 the government of Ecuador stopped paving at Limon. Thus for 100km we rode the roughest dirt road as of yet. We averaged 30km/hr which for Greg was pushing the limit. There were several deep rocky sections and slick wet corners with the risk of oncoming traffic at all times. After 3 hours we finally encountered the hard top again, we were never so glad to drive in a straight line.

We were on our way to Loja, our last stop in Ecuador before crossing the Peru border. I had a headache all day which was compounded 1000% by the rough dirt road that I thought was never going to end. To soothe my suffering we went for burgers, fries and a south american sundae.

Vulcanism - Banos, Ecuador

Local man pulling toffee, it was quite tasty, particularily with dog poops.

Cloud cover billowing upward from the Amazon Basin.

The ravine & river to the right which we followed to the base of the volcano.

Greg and I standing on a lahar, a volcanic mud flow.

Jan.11, 2010

We left the jungle in the pouring rain and accended to 1800 meters through the fog. Along the way we encountered a fallen tree across the road. Luckily we arrived just a man began chainsawing the branches and trunk (under the cover of an umbrella being held for him by a friend) allowing us to pass after only a short wait. The water was cascading down the road and the rain drops were splashing 30cm off the asphalt. We were on our way to Banos, a place Greg visited 5 years ago, and thankfully about 45 minutes away from town the rain stopped. The short dry period did not help much, we arrived at our hostal soaking wet and smelling like a couple of wet dogs.

Christian was the owner of the hostal, and he was very excited to see us roll up on a KLR. Our arrival prompted him to uncover his own KLR which was dormant for the past couple of months. Greg helped him to adjust his doohickey and helped him with some other minor tune up jobs that Christian had on the back burner.

We were exhausted from our ride in the rain so we hit the hay at 8pm knowing that we would be hiking up a steep mountain side in the morning. At approximately 5am the roosters began which was followed by Greg´s alarm clock at 6am which was then followed by a bull horn announcer at 730am who was coordinating group exercises for the school next door. All of this noise did not deter us from sleeping and we rolled out of bed at 830am for real coffee, rolls, and eggs.

Jan.12, 2010

We walked around town gathering snacks for our hike. Armed with 3 liters of water, 2 oranges, 2 rolls, a bag of chips, and some dog poops (beer nuts) we began our ascent. We followed a path and crossed a river which was a tributary to the main river on our right. At this point the path became a trail which followed up a median between the two rivers. Essentially we were hiking up a very big ridge towards the base of the volcano. Immediately the trail jutted upward and we began to sweat. There was a white horse tied to a stick which we considered riding however the point of our journey was to get some excerise while exploring the volcano side (and I´m pretty sure I will not be getting on a horse again in the near future after my last adventure).

Beginning in early January, the volcano became active. This essentially translates to minor tremors followed by spewing smoke and ash which is refered to as pyroclastic flows. On our hike up to the base of the volcano at 3000 meters we were able to see in the daylight billowing plumes of grey expanding volcanic belches. The rumbles at times made us uneasy, the sound was like thunder, and we swear the ground shook.

On the way up we meandered up through a trench which must have been created by years of hoof travel and water erosion. At times this trench was well over 10 feet deep and 7 feet wide. At about 3/4 the way up we found an opening in the barb wire fence paralleling the trail and hiked upward through a field. This was a very good choice which entertained panoramic views of surrounding dormant volcanoes, other fields, farms, valleys, and the town of Banos below.

After four hours of hiking the trail diminished to a cow path and we decided it was time to turn around. On our way down, Greg decided to jump over a small brook and haphazardly stepped onto a 2x4 plank hidden in the grass which caused him to roll his ankle. He wasn´t really hurt, however, it scared him to think that the motorcycle trip could have ended.

We were down the mountain in what seemed no time. We arrived back at our hostal and went for a well deserved dinner. Upon returning to the hostal Christian excitedly prompted us to get our riding gear on and follow him to a view point where we could observe the volcanic activity from an adjacent mountain. After following Christian for only 2 kms we refered to him as CC (Crazy Christian). In the darkness we followed only his tail light through twisting turns and switch backs, making our way to our view point. The road turned from asphalt, to cobblestone and finally to dirt and back to asphalt. We ascended into a thick peasoup fog which was dizzying and disorienting like trying to balance on one foot with your eyes closed. The fog from the Orient was too thick so we headed back down to a point where the volcano was visible in fiery red streaks outlining it´s dark sillouette in the black night sky.

The three of us stopped to watch this magnificent event for some time, and then without warning it seemed as though all activity stopped. We fired up the bikes and headed back home when all of a sudden there was a thunderous crack heard well over the bikes. We looked up to see tumbling red fire balls and streaking red fireworks ejecting from the caldera. It was awesome in all sense of the word.

Rio Napo-Amazon- Ecuador

Jan 08
Julie was not feeling too well so we took it pretty easy in Old Town Quito. After a breakfast that was less than what I expected (the coffee tasted like ditch water) we called My friend Micaela. Micaela came to meet us with her boyfriend Louis and we took a stroll through the narrow streets and colonial buildings which were overshadowed by massive and intricately decorated cathedrals and churches.

After a coffee stop at a much better place we said good bye to Micaela and Louis and hopped onto the bike for a spin out to the middle of the earth 0´0¨.0 Latitude. There was a monument and a centre line painted at the site where we marveled at the fact the our cerebral fluid was swirrling in a turbulent confluence.

Quito is a large city with a new & modern section and a old historic section. The elevation of the city is at 2800 meters and thus the temperature is quite chilly all the time unless you are in the direct sunlight of the equatoral sun rays.

The next Morning Jan 09 we loaded up the bike and headed over a Mountain range ¨The Cordilleras.¨It was freezing at the summit and there was rain falling which added to the misery. We were heading up and up until finally we crested the mountain top amungst the clouds and mist at a maximum elevation of 4077 meters. We had to stop to don our rain gear as were were getting pretty wet and frozen. There was a little religious monument at the top that we seeked refuge in that provided shelter from the cold and rain while we got our rubber pants and jackets on. Immediately we began our decent along side of a trickling river. The river grew continuously as we decended, being fed by hundreds of tributaries and immense waterfalls. It was quite scenic although we were enveloped in a cloud. Apparently this route is famous for its volcano views, but we saw none.

We stopped for lunch and ordered some food. I got exactly what I wanted for the first time and Julie got a crappy cheese and ham sandwich. We took off out of there worried that the police were going to pursue us after I didn´t stop at a check point. We rounded a corner where a large sign indicated a protected park. We decided to check it out and rode way up a small dirt road which was quite challenging at times. There were several small bridges which I worried would not support the weight of the bike. I thought the road might loop back to the road we were following to Rio Napo, however, it came to a dead end shortly after eluding some vicious dogs. Alas we had to run the gauntlet once again, however, this time the dogs were pooped from their previous run and gave little chase.

At a challeging bridge crossing Julie hopped off and decided that it was time to take a photo and then proceeded to empty her stomach contents. It took quite a while since I traded her most of my fries for her ham and cheese sandwich earlier. The sick little woman was a trooper and hopped on the back of the bike (with her helmet unfastened for emergency removal) and we slowly rode back to asphalt.

We continued to decend to only 400 meters and arrived in a small village called Missahulli. Here there was a very good hostal with the Rio Napo only a short walk away. I went out for supper while Julie sipped on juice to soothe her stomach.

The next morning Julie´s belly was much better and we hired a river canoe to motor us down the powerful river to a jungle refuge and a smaller village. The walk through the jungle was interesting and we enjoyed the humid and hot environment. Surprisingly there were no bugs aside from the occasional butterfly (irrecident anodized blue).

Two fellows from Argentina accompanied us on the River tour named ¨Benjamin & Martin¨. Graciously these fellows gave us all their pictures of the trip as Julie forgot that I forgot to put the memory card back in the camera.

We stopped at a small wildlife refuge (more like a jail for captured wild animals). Here we saw caged wild jungle cats, caged baby crocodiles, giant tortoses who live in the jungle and of course monkeys and toucans that had their wings clipped. It was kind of cruel but for the admission of 2 dollars a head we got to support these enterprizing locals.

Julie seems to be a mother to all monkeys and they readily hop right up and into her arms for a nap. One monkey was so at home that he made another monkey want the same. At one point the second monkey crawled up Julie like a tree trunk and hopped into her other arm and laid down contently. After about 15 minutes Julie began to complain of their weight and wanted me to take one. The Monkeys however did not want any part of me and knowing that one of them needed to go they began to squabble in Julies arms. They began slapping each other with both hands and lightly biting each others arms like a couple of spoiled brats. This was Julies que to let them both down and set them off to run around and swing in the trees.

We all hopped into the boat with Tito as our captain and motored up to another village who´s school was being painted and fixed up by a bunch of overweight white folks. We stayed there a while to observe the Football match (soccer). We noticed that not a single local person, man woman or child was helping what so ever with the school reconstruction or painting etc. Everyone was out side smiling, playing with their kids and playing Football. Apparently they had no desire to sit in a hot classroom and become educated like us white folks wanted them to be. Perhaps they still remember the Conquestadors and village burning in the name of Catholic religion. I don´t know but the soccer game drew alot of people´s attention.

Julie and I crashed early and awoke this morning to torrential rainfall. The rain has not let up and we are deciding wheather or not to venture out of our dry hotel area under cover of corregated tin. The rain is bouncing off the muddy streets more than 30 cm high and the road way looks like a brown river rather than a road. I guess this is what to expect when in the Amazon Basin. Perhaps we´ll don the rain gear and venture out and up 2000 meters to the village of Banos to the west.

Otavalo - Quito, Ecuador

Scene just after the border crossing into Ecuador

A volcano looming over Otavalo

Ernesto, Anna and his daughter's friend Ximena.

Julie a real trooper, went for a small hike despite not being able to keep her eyes open!

Jan. 5-7 2010.

Trip: 350km to Otavalo from Ipiales, Colombia
Ecuador Currency: USD

Hotel: $25

Fuel: $1.48/Gal

Hostal in Quito: $16

The border crossing between Colombia and Ecuador was a breeze and we were through in little more than an hour and a half. The mountanous terrain did not cease and we were continuosly at elevations between 2600m-3400m. The air was chilly despite the fact we had sunny skies and great weather. We passed a digital billboard which read 19 deg C in a warm valley.

It was getting close to 3:30Pm with approximately a 100km to go before Quito (the capital city). I saw a sign for Otavalo, a popular tourist destination in the mountains with 3 beautiful lakes at the base of their respective volcanos. We found a hotel near the center of the small city (no building greater than 3 stories) and headed out walking. Immediately we came across yet another festival. I have no idea what it was all about, however, every person in the town was there. Some dudes dressed up as women ran around the square, some wearing blonde wigs, this apparently signaled the end of the parade and the towns people dispersed.

Julie and I headed out for supper and afterward began heading back to our hotel. As we were rounding a street corner heading to the next block, a couple passed us. The girl glanced back at us (most likely because we were talking english) and I immediately recognised her as Raphie Laubman from Calgary. I had stayed at her and my friend Vinny's house several times and now here on a street corner there she was. It was so odd! What could be the chances of this happening? One second more paying the bill at the restaurant and we would have missed each other completely. The motorcycle ride in itself is showing us how small the world really is but now, meeting a friend on a corner...thats over the top.

Julie began feeling ill in the middle of the night. I was dead asleep and didn't notice that she was up half the night hanging out in the bathroom up chucking supper. I awoke when she came back to bed and realised what was going on.

In the morning Julie was feeling not much better. We went for breakfast in a small cafe restaurant and drank coffee with soured milk. I figured it was curdling in the coffee because it was un pasturized but Julie's nose indicated that it was bad. I drank mine anyhow. There were 4 other people in the place besides the staff and no one else was complaining.

We checked out of our hotel and took off on the loaded bike up a cobble stone road toward a beautiful waterfall. Julie laid down on the grass and took a break along side the river below the waterfall. After some time we returned to the bike and ran into the same folks that were at the restaurant we ate at 4 hours prior. Here we met Ernesto, Anna & Ximena. Ernesto insisted we meet him for lunch at 2Pm. We agreed and were treated to a lovely meal which was completely picked out for us by Ernesto. We sampled a few of the local dishes, fruits, and fruit beverages. It was an excellent meal and we enjoyed the hospitality of our new friends.

It was getting late in the day and we convinced Ernesto that we had to leave in order to make it to Quito before night fall. We mounted the KLR and off we went high in the mountains. The entire ride was well over 2700 meters and the bike was feeling the lack of Oxygen. It sputtered and barely made it over 80 km/h on most hill climbs.

We had planned on staying at a Hostal we had researched but it quicky became apparent that there was no way we were going to find it unless we hired a cab to follow again. We followed some signage to Old Quito, the historic centre. We found a great Hostal which agreed to let my bike into the front lobby. I went out to get bottled water and a small pizza to bring back to the room and bunked down for the night. Julie is not feeling well this evening so we will see what we get up to tomorrow. I have a friend here in Quito who I did my (EMT) Paramedic training with in Edmonton, we'll try to hook up with her tomorrow and maybe go to the ecuatorial centre of the Earth.

Up & Over Never Ender- Ipiales, Colombia

Beautiful valley just outside of Pasto

Arid part of the ride where the grass was brown and there were cacti.

Mountain road Route 25 that passes through a 211 meter tunnel (You can see where the road emerges on the other side)

Gas station hotel for 6 dollars a night

Chicken foot soup, served with breakfast, tasty!

We rode out of Manizales 2 days ago on Jan. 04. The night before I had to sample some of the bottle of Colombian rum that my parking lot buddy gave to me. I began sipping it with Coca-Cola and before I knew it I had met an American fellow named David and his wife Lisa. It was well past dark and David and I walked up the street to get some snacks only to realize that the store had closed as it was Sunday night.

Our next option was to walk over to a happening bar area where we were able to grab a bottle of Coca-Cola. Immediately we were invited to sit down at a table for a few drinks. Some 2 hours later Julie and Lisa showed up worried about us two hooligans. Alas were were fine but well past our bed times.

The next morning I was up at the crack of dawn so that I wouldn't puke and loaded the bike for a relaxing drive down a straight wide valley drive with giant mountains on either side. We had planned only to ride to Cali but had arrived at 1pm so we kept on rolling. Just when I thought that the mountains were all over we began climbing, and the valley grew more narrow with every passing Kilometer. Within minutes we were ascending up the side of a mountain on narrow mountain roads. By now it was getting close to 5pm and it was time to look for accomodations. Finally just before dark a road side hotel which looked like a gas station appeared. I wouldn't have normally stayed there but the price was just right at about $6 bucks.

We were up and on the road at 7:20 am the next morning with less than 300km to ride to the Ecuador border. We knew that the high mountain roads were slow going and we wanted to have time to stop and enjoy the scenery. We stopped for breakfast at a road side restaurant in a small town. We tried to ask for eggs and we got a bonus chicken foot soup. I ate mine (aside from the foot) but Julie wouldn't touch hers. Apparently she only likes legs & breasts!

I was thinking how beautiful the scenery was and how tranquil the area was when out of the blue some people on the road side began hoisting a rope off the ground across the road. I thought "what the hell?" Then they dropped it at the last second with their hands stretched out maybe begging for money. It kind of annoyed me, then it happened again, and again. There was a whole colony of these road side people doing this. The rope that they were using was too valuable to waste on tangling me up so I didn't slow down for the remaing 20 or so beggars in the 10 kilometer stretch.

My rear tire was getting to the point where it needed to be changed. We were only 150km from the Ecuador border so I decided now would be a great time to stop. We pulled into a road side tire changing spot. (they are everywhere) Here I asked the guy how much and he said 5000 pesos I gave him 10,000 ($5) and then got no change. They never have change! I pretty much changed the tire myself with a bit of help from the guy but I needed him nonetheless to help with stabilizing the bike and blocking it up when we had the tire off. Though he spoke no english he knew exactly what I needed him to do.

With the knobby tire installed we rode to Ipiales and pulled into one gas station after another. Every time the attendant said ...sorry no gas. We rode past 5 gas stations and then finally the Esso has some regular for us.

I took a wrong turn and ended up in the centre if Ipiales. There was a Colombian festival going on called Blanco Y Negro Festival (Black and White festival) and at 4pm we decided to stay the night and partake in the festivities. Everyones face was painted black, yellow, green, white Etc. People were spraying this soapy white foam from this areosol can that stuck right to you. Apparently the thing to do is aim it right in the persons face.

We found a Hotel right away with secure parking and the owner and his entire family (6 of them) invited us out to head into the town that night to take in a public concert and join in the festival. Immediately Julie and I got our faces smeared with white make up paint by some stranger who ran up on us from behind. The young fellow with us who was about 12 yrs old handed Julie a can of the foam and savagely she began attacking innocent by standers. We got our own back and by the end of the night our hair and shirts were soaked. Our faces were thick with the make up paint.

We entered the town square and watched the concert whose live band played Spanish rock, salsa, and other types of boom, boom music. Everyone was dancing and having a great time and of course spraying the foam. We were shot many times.

Julie kept getting whisked away by latino men who showed her their very best dance steps. They all wanted to dance the salsa, but by the time 5 minutes had passed their shiny shoes were all scuffed from her hiking boots. Finally a Latino gal came over and got me to dance. She was all smiles but after about 40 seconds she was wishing the song was over. I had no rhythm and the song went on and on and on. We packed it in at 9:30 before the drunk guy who was pelvic grinding Julie asked for another dance.

Today we head to Ecuador and go looking for the Ecuator.

Coffee Talk- Santagueda (Rochela) Colombia

Our ride out of the coffee valley

Coffee Seedlings before being transplanted to the mountain side

The coffee plantation at 1300 meters where Arabrica beans grow.

Right hand has low grade beans, left hand has high grade and low grade comparison and also the white husk removed from the bean.

Julie beside a heavily fruiting coffee tree with ripe red beans ready for picking. Men pick between 100 and 150 Kg of beans in a 9 hour day.

Wolfgang, the owner of the Hostel Monalisa (originally from Germany) where we`ve been staying suggested that we take a coffee plantation tour at a near by coffee farm. Wolfgang arranged a friend of his to escort us by motorcycle to the farm some 30 km from the hostel up a steep twisty highway and down a steep dirt road. Gonzales (the escorter) pointed to us where to park the bike, we abided and followed him down a dirt path and across a river and up to a manicured property owned by the coffee growers.

Gonzales dialed a number on his cellular to let the people know that we were there. The property was completly gated in as the owner used to be the governer of the region and thus required security. Once inside we were brewed a fresh cup of coffee right off the plantation. The coffee was served in a very small cup but was delicious nonetheless.

Once we were ready Alexander (our Guide) took us up an ascent into the coffee plantation. Here he began his interpretative tour and described the plantation process where by coffee seedlings were planted from seed and incubated for 10 weeks. Following ten weeks the plants were removed from their sandy soils and placed in a plastic pot for 10 months before being planted. The coffee plants were approximately 3-5 feet in height and had trunk diameters of 1.5 to 2 inches. Every 6 years the coffee plant was hacked down as its seed producing potential wained compared to its former productive years.

At altitudes greater than 800 meters Arabrica beans are grown. They produce coffee with a lower caffiene content and a better flavor. The premium beans from this region are typically shipped to Japan. So if you are jonesing for a good cup of joe apparently you gotta head to J.A-PAN Company. As for the rest of us we get the the 2nd grade beans and the Colombians enjoy the 4th grade which has bug infested and unripe beans ground into the evil elixor.

Following the coffee tour we were treated to fresh Mango juice and sat at a huge table whose deck was fashoned from a single trunk of some tree called an ear tree. The slab of wood was 4 feet wide and 6 feet long and 8 inches thick. I reckon that the tree from which this table top was cut must have been about 10 feet in diameter at breast height.

After our 3 hour walk around the plantation in the searing heat we were pooped and headed back to our hostel Monalisa for R&R.

Tomorrow we head out of Santagueda (Rochela) and possibly head to Cali. We bought two bags of coffee so we`ll brew that up at an early hour and ride south making our way towards Ecuador in the coming days.

Twisty Turny - Santagueda, Colombia

Route 50, the road we came up. This picture was taken at approximately 2700meters.

3600meters. A small farm we passed on the decent.

A steep section where the bike was beginning to act up.

The summit with the snow capped mountain in the distance.

After a spectacular fireworks display launched from the top of a skyscraper in downtown Bogota to ring in 2010, it was time to make our way back to the hostal in a sea of people celebrating in the streets with cervesas, Colombian rum and whatever else they could get their hands on. Greg seems to attract the drunk old men every where he goes and so we had two old fellows following us around, asking us for a Canadian dollar and who eventually got annoyed because Greg would not take a swig from their rum bottle. They called him a canary and this was our que to leave and head home.

The next morning Greg walked down the street to pick up the bike from the parking lot where we'd been storing it. The extra money that Greg was paying above the stated price on the sign was to his surprise a pool of money used to buy him a bottle of Colombian rum as a New Years gift.

With our bottle of rum stashed in the pannier we began our trek across the city. We made a few wrong turns and managed to find the right highway out of the city just by chance, and it only took us an hour and a half! We took Route 50 heading northwest of Bogota towards Manizales. Unbeknownst to us the highway was a mountain pass that took us to elevations of over 3700 meters. The bike began to run like crap and Greg was worried it was going to stall. The temperature plummetted and the road was laid out like an unfurled ribbon dropped onto the moutain side. We had planned to change the rear tire within the next 1000km however, the mountain pass only wore down the sidewalls thus we still have 1000km of life left in the tire. The maximum speed we could drive was 60km/hr so it ended up taking us 9 hours to cover 347kms. After 5 hours of twisties we became comfortable leaning the bike over more than 45 degrees in most turns.

The scenery was more than spectular...magnificent! It is obvious that explorers familiar with the Americas had seen very similar geographical features in British Columbia as there is here in Colombia. The mountain tops were covered in forests of pine, what looked like Jack or Lodgepole pine. As we crested the top of the highest mountain and turned another tight radius turn a snow capped mountain presented itself to us. It was a stunning sight! It was so cold up there that Greg had to turn on his heated handle bars and I longed for my winter gloves and extra fleecy. Near the summit a car that had passed us earlier was pulled over at the side of the road. The passenger was found on his hand and knees in the ditch vomiting his empanadas.

It was a 70km decent down the mountain side to the town of Manizales. It was getting dark and because of the lack of road signs we had trouble finding the hostal Monalisa where we had booked for the night. We pulled up to a water park outside of town to ask directions. It very quickly became clear to the employees of the water park that our spanish was lacking and after much discussion amongst themselves they would escort us to our destination. Two of the guys climbed onto a 125cc two stroke with no headlight and only a blinking LED for a tail light and told us to follow them. They lead us directly to Hostal Monalisa where the owner Wolfgang had been waiting for us to showup for hours.

The 279km stretch of never ending turns utterly drained us of all our energy reserves. Although it was the most intense and scenic route possible to ride on a motorcyle it was almost too much for one day.