With heavy hearts, we left the Galapagos and flew to Quito. Darn it. After six months of soil-treading around South America, covering every blade of grass, flake of snow and grain of sand along the way, we finally cheat and miss a chunk. But what the hell, it doesn't really matter in the long run, and besides, Ant loves flying. Shame Jen doesn't. Every flight sees us display polar opposites of emotions. As the plane gathers speed on the runway, Jen frowns so hard her eyebrows meet as she pretends to read a book, only to be yanked out of her meditation by Ant squeezing her hand and going, 'There can't be much runway left, hope we leave the ground soon!' According to various reports, one thing far more dangerous than flying, is Quito. It seemed
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