Ecuador.

  Ecuador

  The border crossing from Columbia to Ecuador was the most uncomplicated to date. I left Columbia with more currency than I hoped to have in hand, border towns are the least attractive and just hanging around to use up the surplus is a waste of time and money. Luck was on my side this time; I negotiated a good deal with the money changer at the border, and the Custom’s Officer in the Ecuadorian Aduana only wanted to practice her English language on me, so a deal was done, she read the motorcycle chassis identification numbers to me from the motor cycle title (registration document), and I read the stamped numbers on the frame and replied in my best Espanola. This defeats the system completely, as I only had to repeat the numbers that were relayed to me, so any dodgy deals with stolen vehicles would pass undetected, that is if I was a liar and a cheat!! It is unreal how some borders can be so difficult and stressful, photographs have been taken, double checks by surly officers looking for a gift, it’s all a joke I am sorry to say.

 Free of the border, all I had to deal with was the rain, my day was further enhanced by the nearly free gasoline, and I had to take a trip through the Gas Station to make sure that the price was not per litre, as $2.00 per U.S. gallon was almost free.

 It’s true, in helmet calculation makes that about 30p a litre, and you can fill your face in a restaurant for $3.00. I could get fat, and never come home.....but it is not all roses, the high altitude and the filthy fumes from the vehicles on the Pan American Highway makes the travel lees fun, looking at my face I could have been sweeping chimneys, I need a different route. But......I have to cover some distance, or I will not make it home this year, so I head for Banos. I did camp by this lake on the way though.

 Banos is touristy, but not to be dismissed, as the surrounding landscape is magnificent. Hot springs, smoking Volcano and many tracks and trails to be explored I did not know where to start, so the chores of two wheel Hobo travel had to be dealt with first, can I get another day out of these socks? If you hang them over the boots and they are stiff and fragrant in the morning, then the answer is maybe no!

 Not wanting to be a conformist and of course pay too much, I dismissed the opportunity to a guided tour and made the decision for a get fit hike. With my tourista mappas in hand I set off towards the hills overlooking the Volcano. A serious hike awaits !!

 Back pack loaded with 2 litres of water, a banana or 3 and a bag of mixed nuts I head for the hills in my Wallmart Crock’s replicas. I plod my way up the rough cobbled tracks; there are a few dwellings and folk around, tomato growing is what it is all about here. Banos is at 6000 ft above sea level, once I reached 8000 ft there were only fruit crops and nothing else..........complete silence and just the wind.

Banos below, Volcan Tunguraha in the foreground.

 I was hoping to find a reference point soon to confirm my location, I do remember reading that the map was of poor quality, and I can vouch that it is true! Up to the elevation of 9000 ft, I saw a small wooden shack with a tin roof. Outside there was a “saw Horse” with fresh saw dust beneath, signs of life I pondered. I peered inside; I surprised a man just tucking in to his lunch! So pleased to see me, he confirmed my location and I continued my decent. Now back to tarmac, I was still unsure of the distance back to Banos. Along the road, at a river crossing I met a truck driver, and he too confirmed that I was going in the right direction, so all was good, or so I thought. Eventually the road met a junction with a post saying 12KM to Banos, the town where I started. I met a woman on the roadside with a load of wooden boxes. She said there would be a taxi along soon, so we sat on the edge of the road an waited, while she hacked and spat, and cursed her broken watch strap. I fixed her watch strap. She hailed the taxi (a pick-up truck) and shovelled me in the back. She didn't get in, (thankfully), she I guess must have been going the other way. The 12km ride cost 30p. There was a young lad in the back of the truck, and an older man sat precariously on the tail gate. It was a rough ride facing backwards breathing the fumes from the exhaust, it was safer than being perched on the tail gate. The driver was erratic, brakes or full throttle!! The truck stopped for another passenger, a really frail old man with brand new black and white sneekers on, and he carried a heavy sack with him. he too perched himself on the tailgate. He carefully untied the sack and gave us all two green fruits. They were a variety of peach,tasty they were too, despite being green and hard. That's how it is here, 

 The problem with travelling is the sticky feet syndrome, if you stay too long in one place it becomes difficult to leave. It would have been easy to stay here, so much to see and to do, I wanted to trek up to the Volcano, I waited for 3 days for the low cloud to lift, it did not happen. On leaving I rode my bike along the track to the Volcano, it was so steep and the bike so heavily laden I was having trouble keeping the front wheel on the ground, an once you find yourself in that position it is a very difficult manoeuvre to turn a motorcycle around without ending up as a heap on the ground!! 
 Back on the road I head for Macas, I pass through several grimy towns where I should have filled my fuel tank, but as that is now a chore I decided that the 180 Km to Macas was no problem, as the gas stations are plentiful here, but not when you really need one of course. The road to Macas was very long and straight, jungle road, just a few wooden dwellings and horses hauling timber from the jungle. I had to sweat it all the way to Macas for the fuel.  Macas was quite uninspiring along with the offered accommodation. After a long day, something nice to eat would be good, but Macas did not deliver. I shuffled several circuits of broken streets and could not be temped. Feeling tired and a little low, I was making my way back to my $10.00 room with stained ceiling and torn curtains, and 2 flattened cockroaches that I had previously murdered. Wondering what my next move may bring,  I shuffled past one of the many restaurants,  I had been noticed by two fellow back-packers.  One of the lads, a Peruvian, came after me, he said "we are having dinner, do you want to join us"? "Err, well yes", I replied. So over the $2.00 dinner we discussed travels and a jungle trip that they had just booked. I was invited to join them, we leave at 10.30 am tomorrow, that was the plan. I hastily packed a survival kit and made arrangements to safely store the bike for a few days with the landlord of the Hotel Grim, and met the lads the next morning. We waited in vain for the guide to turn up, they had already paid some of the money but thankfully not all of it. I guess they had been the victims of con trick. Something to add to the book of life we agreed, so they decided to move on. The previous day I had by chance met Winston, offering a similar deal, he had given me all his details on a crumpled piece of card board that I retrieved from my pocket, so I found his address and a deal was done, and I could leave my motorcycle in his office. So I was off to the jungle to stay with a Shuar family for 3 days. 

The family home for 5.

 I had my own bamboo palm thatched accommodation. Dirt floor and a sack stuffed with grass for a mattress, and a length of rag nailed to the open window for a curtain.

 Five bamboo poles close the door, the wood smoke keeps the mozzies away. A good nights sleep was enjoyed by fire light.

The view from the hole where modern man would have double glazing, could have been better, but not much !!!

A Condor, waiting for a suicidal Gringo to throw himself over the edge. He's still waiting. However, a hungry Condor

is not a threat, the parrots come no bigger than these brutes, with a 40 ft wing span, you run for cover when you hear one approaching. The diet of mango's and jungle cabbage makes dangerous droppings, the acid will reduce the victim to a smouldering smudge in less than 5 minutes. The ash apparently is good for your yucca plants.

 Don't drink and drive, I have been warned, but smoke dope and fly? Seems that the alternative has it's problems too !!

I found this Anos spider in my beloved Crock's. (Walmart replica's, don't want to have to face a lawyer)

Proper Jungle.

In to the Jungle I trekked, to find the Cascada Kintia Panki. Off the beaten track, it was an incredible experience, especially in the tropical rain.

I was the subject of a Cascada ritual, I drank the juice from tobacco leaves, and had words of wisdom chanted at me, and a grand finale spitting performance. A swig of liquid from a flask was spat all over me. I'll never work again !! Just as well it was raining.

 With a distinct aroma of wood smoke, I left the jungle for the border crossing to Ecuador. A management meeting with myself made the decision to use the less busy border crossing of La Balsa.

 The road was a good one, high up in the foot hills of the Andes. Take it easy, you never know what is around the corner.

 On the way to the border, eat my dust!!

 The map did not say that there was at least 80 miles of this and mud to the border. The best border crossing to date.

The whiskey bottle was almost empty, just enough for me, the officer suggested. I declined, would not look quite so good on the other side of the bridge, hoping to enter Peru with out too much trouble.