Trujillo (Peru) to Ibarra (Ecuador)

Detour in Ecuador

After crossing the border from Peru
I took a detour in Ecudaor
Changed some money,
Saw the road sign and thought,
"Why not? I will not be here again."
Then slipped off the highway.

Prior to my diversion I sought the usual, useless assurances
And asked a man pushing an ice-cream cart whether the quieter road was also paved.
"Todo es aspahalto" he cheerfully confirmed.
And unusually it was, but it twisted, writhed and squirmed.
I rode through beautiful fertile valleys
Punctuated by sleepy restrained villages.
Far more timid than their brasher Peruvian cousins,
With inappropriate spikey names like James Bond villains;
Sozoranga, Cariamanga, Gonzanama.
Mr Malloch, we do not expect you to talk. We expect you to climb.

Although each day I did not travel as far as I had hoped,
It did not seem to matter.

Two days earlier sitting under a citrus tree
Seeking refuge from a fierce afternoon sun I met Ian from Oregon.
I sat down and shared his shade.
As is the usual custom with Gringos on the road,
For a few minutes we enjoyed each others English.
Like me, he had set off from the southern tip of Argentina
He too intends, one day, to reach Alaska.
It has however taken him three years to walk this far
Pushing a trolley stacked with all his gear.
To him I exist for an instant only to disappear.
A pedalling gadfly,
A transient seasonal occurence just briefly flitting by.

In Peru he had ascended the Andes
Then fallen towards the sea.
Enticed down by honeyed maps
Showing straight lines moving swiftly along the coast.
However rapid days of dull empty flatness proved more of an ordeal
Memory is selective, in retrospect pain is always difficult to feel.
Now realising what he already knew before
He´s heading inland, turned his back on the shore.

Enjoying the process and making progress
Can, at times, be difficult to reconcile
So I took a detour in Ecuador
And dallied for a while.


As you will have gathered am still under the influence of the poetic muse who first breathed so sweetly into my ear in the south of Peru. When will she desert me? Who can possibly say. Above poem inspired by two things: (1) meeting Ian on a quiet road in northern Peru. He has been walking for three years now. Taking his time and enjoying the scenery; and (2) the growing realisation that the best way to cycle the Panamerican highway is not to actually to cycle on it but to take the quieter roads that weave their alongside it.

My front panniers decided to bow out of the trip in a rather spectacular fashion in northern Peru. After leaving Trujillo spent a day rolling along the flat desert next to the coast. Not too interesting you can´t see the sea but Lucho, Alejandro and Juan (who rides with a soft toy monkey on his shoulder) came along for the first 50km to keep me company. Entered the small surfing town of Pacasmayo and my mind was contemplating supper. Front wheel went into a pothole and one of the bolts that attaches my front panniers to the forks of my bike snapped. My front panniers then wrapped themselves around my front wheel, causing puncture number 23, my bike jackknives into the air sending bob trailer into my rear gear mechanism. I end up sprawled on the roadside, a jumble sale of limbs. A bit stunned I am not hurt but just trying to work out what has happened. My front panniers now look like an aluminium butterfly, my rear mech has broken in half, my frame is twisted and my forks are bent. A small crowd has gathered around me. What next? A man called Wilfron steps out of the crowd starts talking to me in perfect English and offers to put me in a taxi, a police man takes my name and address. Wilfron it turns out is a hotel owner and a keen cyclist. He installs me in his hotel then later picks me up and takes me to the town´s bike mechanic, Rulins, and helps me get everything sorted out. The next day Rulins takes a bus to the next town buys a new rear mech, which is Shimano, allegedly, comes back and fixes my bike. So I end up spending a couple of unscheduled rest days in Pacasmayo doing not much, (i.e. having a few beers on the seafront, attempting unsuccessful conversations with Australian surfers, walking along a very long pier etc). Thank you very much Wilfron and Rulins for all your help.

Anyway bike fixed I surge out of Pacasmayo and head towards the border and Ecuador. My front pannier bags are now strapped onto the top of my bob trailer. This I consider to be a highly symbolic act. My humbled German-made Ortlieb pannier bags are now strapped on top of my Bob trailer like two defeated barbarian warriors being paraded on a chariot through the streets of Ancient Rome. One regime yielding to the technological superiority of another. Or something like that.

Going from Peru to Ecuador things look a bit more expensive. The second hand imported Japanese trucks and buses and the tuk tuk motorcycle taxis are replaced by Cheverlot pick-up trucks and SUVs. Hotel accomodation is also a bit more expensive but I think on average better value for money, toilets have seats etc.

Spent a couple of days in Loja and three days in Cuenca. Towns and villages are much much quieter than Peru. Which admittedly isn´t hard. Cuenca is my favourite place in Ecuador. Very lively cultural scence: Interesting art galleries; Good coffee at Cafe Austria; A bank which has a brilliant museum featuring an exhibition of shrunken heads and a beautiful garden with Inca ruins; a really good bookshop ABC Libereria with lots of good English books (on Padre Aguirrez and Sucre); free concerts on Friday evenings, I went expecting to see the Cuenca Symphony Orchestra but ended up being entertained by a band of seven blokes playing latin music and wearing Che Guevara T shirts; I found an Onion Bhajee (Cafe Eucalyptus-bhajee itself passable, mint sauce a bit like sweet toothpaste); and even bought a loaf of very tasty wholemeal bread (Cafe Austria again). All that was lacking in order to recreate my cosy middle-class childhood was an episode of the Archers ("Que pasa Senor Grundy?").

In Cuenca I stayed in a really nice, clean and friendly hostel, Hospedaje Americano run by Santiago, his wife Sandra and Lala (Francisco Tamariz 1-14 y Av. Heroes de Verdelona in between Luis Cordero and Padre Aguirre Tel 07 2837 882). Santiago laments the fact that they are not yet in the Lonely Planet. Although their hostel is very nice the flyer has an extremely misleading picture of a very attractive blonde lady playing with some equally blonde children by a glowing fireplace, which if fireplaces had hair would also have been blonde. Blonde lady and children are however nowhere to be seen. I ask Santiago why he doesn´t have a photo of himself and his family on the flyer instead. "If I did that no one would come" he pragamatically replies.

On the day I leave Cuenca it is the day of the first round of the presidential elections. Although there are lots of candidates apparently only two have a real chance of winning. Sandra explains that she and Santiago are going to be voting for different candidates, the two that have a chance. When I ask whether this political division will generate any marital friction Sandra wistfully responds"not much".

After Cuenca visit Aluasi and along with many other Gringo tourists take a ride on the famous Devil´s Nose train ride. Extremely enjoyable two hours spent sitting on the roof of a freight wagon which has to zigzag down the mountain due to the steep gradient.

Then I enter Ecuador´s corridor of volcanoes and its off to Riobamba where I spend a day wandering around and meet Galo who runs a company called Probici that organises mountain bike trips on the nearby volcano. They look really good tours and I probably should have done one (www.probici.com). I am not sure if the road from Riobamba to Banos is open as a volcano has erupted recently. Galo is extremely helpful and makes a lot of enquiries for me and also puts me in touch with a really good bike mechanic Alfonso Guaman who has a look at my headset for me (it is ok just a bit loose). Thank you for your help Galo and Alfonso.

Ride from Riobamba to Baños past a smoking volcano quite interesting. After about halfway the paved road fades away and is replaced by volcanic ash. Take a couple of wrong turns but slowly fall down the valley and eventually a cart track spits me out onto the tarmac just before Baños.

Baños means bath and it is famous for its thermal springs. Too famous as it is has been overrun by tourists. Competing pizza restaurants are separated by competing internet cafes. This is the Gringo trail at its worst. The thermal baths themselves are good though. It is Friday night so I attempt to socialise with fellow Gringos. But group bathing social dynamics are probably not my strong point. Circumstances in the spa conspire against me. I start off gently, talking to a Canadian called Jess who has been doing volunteer work for three months. He then introduces me to Cristal. I decide to play this one with a straight bat and enquire whether she is also Canadian. She informs me that she is from Trinidad and Tobago then disappears. I am bowled out for a hairy duck. I didn´t get the chance to tell her I can now eat a 15 inch pizza in 5 minutes or how I can navigate my bike effortlessly like Jason Bourne through any South American town without a map or guide book. The great tragedy is she will never know these things about me. Although I did subsequently manage to have a reasonable chat with a nice bloke called Juup from the Netherlands it didn´t quite seem the same.

Anyway I have given Quito the swerve, crossed the Equator and am now just about to go into Columbia. In a nutshell If I thought riding through Columbia was going to be dangerous I wouldn´t do it. However over the past nine months I have met 7 bikers who have ridden through Columbia (2 Germans, 1 American, 1 Brit, 1 Belgian, 1 Swiss and 1 Mexican if anyone is interested in a demographic breakdown). They have all had a fantastic time and had no problems. So I am going.

Anyway just a reminder that I am riding to raise money fpr Medecins Sans Frontieres. If you would like to make a donation please visit my website www.pushonnorth.com.

Finally a big thank you to Carl who has done a lot of work over the past few weeks helping me with the PR.

Push on

Tim

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