We left the South American Ambassador for Motorcycle Travelers two weeks after returning from the Galapagos Islands having undertaken 52 separate repair and overhaul jobs on the bike. Ricardo Rocco is a friend we shall remember dearly and think of whenever Ecuador comes to mind. With a seemingly new bike we rode off through the Andes for the Quinoloa Loop. A 200 mile loop of dirt roads meandering through the extinct volcanoes and indian villages of the Andes. Ricardo had told us that this was one of his favorite rides so, for us it wasn't to be missed. Riding south down the PanAm we found it a little difficult at first to find the correct turn off but with the a few directions from helpful people we were soon on the right road, riding past overloaded pick-up trucks with heads pocking out from between sacks of corn we began to climb into the mountains out of the valleys and the temperature began to drop as expected.

Incredible scenery!
We put on warmer clothes and before we knew it the roads had turned from pavement to dirt and cars were replaced by donkey's and llamas. Adidas and Reebok took a back seat to alpaca and wool. With a mixture of enthusiasm and shyness the local Indians waved to us as we rode by. Once again we were beginning to enjoy being off the beaten track but little did we know that this was just the beginning of 10 days of relentless adventure, trials and tribulations. Having ridden for the best part of the day we reached our goal of the Laguna Quinoloa, a lake filled crater at over 4,000 metres; high in the Andes and which last erupted in the 1940's.

Now a sleeping giant that only gives rise to cold winds and sand filled clouds in the dawn hours. We were joined not long later by our friends Silvia and Martin, two German bikers we met in Quito.

After an extremely cold and windswept night we were up at 5:00am to witness the sun rise over the crater, with ice on the tent and wind tears in our eyes we walked the rim of the volcano as the sun and the local people began their day.Looking back now and trying to describe it, it sounds horrible but to watch the sun rise at 4000m over a magical lake whilst all around you local people start their day was worth the wind and cold, it was an incredibly moving and memorable experience. The locals all thought we were mad as hatter's but then it's an everyday occurance for them. As the sun climbed and the temperature rose to a cool 6 degrees C we loaded the bike and began our 4 hour descent back down the winding mountain road and into the valley through more villages, dodging more llamas. It was a ride as Ricardo had described - memorable.

The crack of dawn at Laguna Quilotoa

Upon joining the PanAm again we had an easy ride further south until we reached Cuenca and treated the bike (and ourselves) to a new rear tire - our 14th of the trip. The PanAm is a beautiful road in itself but if one wants to see the 'real' Ecuador (or South America) one needs to venture further afield. We studied the map and decided to ride East for a while before heading south again. This would take us right over the Andes and down to the fringes of the Amazon Basin. We reached the small town of Sigsic, still in the lowlands of the Andes with the intention of taking another high road for a view of the peaks. However, as we studied the map (again) Marco pulled up along side us asking if we needed help. We didn't but the meal he offered us with his mother was very welcome instead. Over lunch he showed us an alternative route over the Andes as the one we wanted to take was a washout of avalanches and air where the road used to be. We were disappointed, expecting another easy road with little to offer but a means of getting from A to B. Once again we were to be reminded of how poor an indication of road conditions maps can be. We set off and began to climb rapidly into the mountains over a fast deteriorating dirt road. Luckily it was dry but heavily rutted from the buses and lorries which use it all year, including the wet season. It was only 2:30pm but we decided to pull off the road early and camp in an idyllic spot. With a foreground of rolling hills covered in wild flowers and mosses and a background of stunning cliffs and waterfalls we put the tent up and got the coffee going. We spent the afternoon wandering the hills and relaxing in the sun. Camping in places like these is free but at the same time priceless.

It looks like Wales

The following morning we were up early but nevertheless took it easy, lazing around in the sun drinking more coffee and chatting. All too soon we needed to be on the road again for the descent down the eastern side of the Andes. The road continued to wind its convoluted way through stunning mountains and valley's and it seemed we had the entire Andes to ourselves. We expected to start falling in height almost immediately but we were surprised to find that we continued to climb, we weren't as far along the road as we'd thought but fortunately we hadn't left it too late in the day to make it down. As we climbed further the road degraded from rutted, dry mud to deeper ruts and boulders strewn around. It made the going slower but the thick fog would have prevented us from going faster anyway. We had ridden high into the cloud layer and now couldn't see more than 15 feet in front of us, the road was following a ridge and cut a path along the mountainside, I,m sure the view was incredible although the drop off would have been a little scary! Finally we climbed over the last pass in the clouds and zero visibility and began to rapidly descend. Once we emerged from the fog we were presented with a view of the far off Amazon and Brazil. It seemed so close but was in fact at least 50 miles away. This side of the mountain the vegetation was completely different, much more densely wooded with many bromeliads and ferns, a beautiful cloud forest. It took us 5 hours of slipping and bumping along to descend the road down into steaming jungle valleys, raging rivers and small villages. As we rode through people would stop what they were doing and look on in amazement with jaws open and frowning foreheads. I'm not sure if it was simply because we were out of place Gringos, Gringos on a bike or the fact we'd ridden the bike down such a bad road for 150 miles.

As the sun set we knew we wouldn't make it into Loja which was our original goal for the day but we found a hostel in a dusty one street town called Chuchumblezo which appeared to be nearing extinction. We fell onto the straw mattress of our bed exhausted and filthy until the next morning knowing we still had 185 kilometers of dirt to ride before Loja. Still tired we were up early again for the long ride to Loja and beyond to Vilcabamba, a total of 255 kilometers (155 miles or so) for the day. With a bag of bananas from the lady who ran the hostel we were on the road again but with the descent of the Andes behind us today we followed the Rio Zamora on a much faster road and zipping along at a steady 30 mph we were in Loja for a late lunch. We finally met paved road again out of Loja and enjoyed the final leg to Vilcabamba riding along a twisting black snake of heaven. Vilcabamba is the fabled town of longevity where people apparently live to over one hundred years as a matter of course but we didn't hold out much hope for ourselves, only being a third of that age but feeling over 100 already!

Vilcabamba was to be our last stop in Ecuador before crossing the border into Peru through a sleepy backwater little used by anybody, let alone people like us. Having ridden along the paved road into town we suspected the road to the border may have been upgraded too and we set off with the potential of getting to the border in just a couple of hours. How wrong we were! We didn't know it at the time but our adventures, trials and tribulations were just about to begin. In no time at all the road turned from shinny black stuff to reasonable dirt before turning to bad dirt. We found ourselves once again on a road similar to the one we had crossed the Andes on and already being fatigued we found it a challenge almost immediately. In the tropical heat we progressed along surfaces ranging from sharp rocks to deep ruts to sand to all three simultaneously. The road was nothing more than a cross between a dry river bed and an isolated track which wasn't even shown on our map. After 5 very long hours we reached the final military check point in Ecuador before the border. We knew the check point was only a few miles from the border so no matter how in-depth the expected search was going to be we didn't care. All that mattered was that we had made it. Yeah, right! The three soldiers that greeted us were just like any other soldiers in South America, a little bored but serious about their job. One took our passports while the other two began to look through our things. First the panniers, then the bags, then under the seat of the bike and it was expected to continue that way, looking into all the little nooks and crannies of the bike. I turned to one of them and simply said "We don't have any drugs anywhere!" The reply came "Oh, ok" and that was the end of the search. It only remained for us to put everything back on the bike in the heat and ride to the border but the soldiers feeling they had done their job dispensed with officialdom and began to chat to us about where we were from and why the hell were we out in the middle of nowhere with them. The jokes were flying and things were relaxed. In our guide book it advises strongly never to take photos of soldiers or military installations so I decided to see if we could add a few more photos of soldiers and military installations to the ones we already have. I asked and the reply came - "Photos for your T shirt!" Seemed like a bargain as I'd had it on for 6 days already and whilst I was fond of my Belize 'Pook's Hill Lodge' T shirt I liked the idea of getting an Ecuadorian military T shirt instead. The deal was struck and I got a new T shirt smelling strongly of latin american aftershave and several photos. Liz did offer to swap her's too but it's obviously not cool to wear girls clothing! Still it got a huge laugh.

Eventually they raised the barrier and off we rode with me smelling sweetly and them waving excitedly. Obviously we'd made an impression. From the moment we rode under the barrier the road deteriorated further from a loose and rocky track to something we would describe as a mule track. It was without doubt the worst road we have ever ridden and as we descended down to the river and expected border crossing all we could do was hold on and try to keep ourselves from going over the edge and reaching the river in free fall. After an hour of riding it seemed that the crossing was a lot further than we were led to believe but we could see the river down below us so carried on with gritted teeth. We had been told that there was a pretty new bridge over the river at the border so we realised we were in the wrong place when we reached the river and there was no bridge, just a makeshift ferry consisting of welded oil drums and a platform. The thought of trying to ride back up what we had just come down was not something either of us wanted to consider so we asked the First Mate of the ferry if Peru was on the other side of the river. He replied that it was and we boarded the ferry with the intention of riding to the nearest police station in Peru and getting our papers sorted out. Not something we would normally consider as it can lead to all sorts of problems but it was more appealing than the track we had come down. We should have also asked the Captain the same question as we later learned Peru was not on the other side of the river at all, just a village called Chito and nothing else. The First Mate, Ryan, was only 6 years old though and had no idea where Peru was so we only had ourselves to blame (again). The Captain, Lewis aged 14 had a better idea of where Peru was and upon delivering us to the wrong side of the river informed us it was back up the track and down the other side of the mountain. We were on the Rio Sangola and not the Rio Canchis. The news was not what we wanted to hear and compounded by the discovery that we had a puncture in the rear tire only made things worse. There was half an hour till dark and we were left with no option but to park the bike on the riverside and camp there for the night. The puncture could wait until the morning.

That is not a new bridge!

As it turned out we had a good night with the Captain and his First Mate. We supplied the food and they supplied the music. We pitched our tent close by the wooden and corrugated iron hut that served as Ryan and Lewis' home. They lived there by themselves for 2 weeks at a time with a supply of only basic canned food and water from the river while they ferried mules and people across the river. Their father lived in Chito and would come to check on them from time to time but aside from that they were on their own. For them we were the highlight (and entertainment) of the month. Luckily, with a couple of new modifications to the bike for extra space we had food to spare for once and we spent the evening chatting away, laughing and eating. Though only 6 and 14 they had the conversation of an adult but the fun of kids. Growing up is something that is done very quickly in South America sometimes. Eventually we went to bed and they returned to their hut and wooden bed for the night. The following morning we had the coffee on early having had a restless night from fear of the mountainside fire that was raging and possibly getting too close to us in the night. Ryan and Lewis joined us and they politely drank our coffee which judging by Ryan's' face he thought was foul. 6 year olds are never too good at hiding the truth! Before the sun reached our side of the valley we had the tire off and discovered we had not one but three punctures to mend. Ryan and Lewis did their best to help although their help made things take three times longer but their company was appreciated. It took an hour and a half to mend the punctures, by which time the sun had climbed over the mountain and reached us and it was scorching hot, so once the wheel was back on the bike we rode it onto the ferry, stripped off and dived into the river to cool off. The mountain waters were cold but refreshing and we did our best to put out of our minds the thought of riding back the way we had come the day before but again, all too soon we had to get on the road and the fun was over.

Many hands makes heavy work

Child labour

Lewis and Ryan took us back across the river and as we left them we wondered where their young lives would take them. We didn't feel sorry for them because they were happy but we couldn't help but wonder if their valley would stay the same for them and if they would stay happy. Our ride back up the mountain was a little easier than coming down for the simple fact that the back tire slid for a shorter distance at any one time before gripping the road again and pushing us on. As we climbed again it became a little cooler and after an hour and a half we were back at the military check point. The soldiers we had met the day before were not around and a new bunch were on duty. As such, once again the panniers were opened, the bags searched and the seat of the bike taken off. Me wearing an Ecuadorian military T shirt obviously made no difference. Once the search was completed we took the right road and were confident in the knowledge that we would soon be at the border (given there are only 2 roads in the area). We made good time for the first ten minutes but then got another 2 punctures. This was not to be our day - again. Trying to smile, we took everything off the bike again, took the rear wheel off and began to fix it again. As we were doing so, who should turn up but the same three soldiers who had searched us the day before, out for a run and a beer in La Balsa. "We waved to you to let you know you were going the wrong way yesterday but you just rode off!" they said. Yes we bloody know now! More photos ensued, them laughing at us and us thanking them for being a welcome pain in the ass. They left and half an hour later we were back on the road to the border. Finally we reached the Rio Canchis and before us was the border between Ecuador and Peru - with three smiling soldiers cheering us on.

Old friends at the border

Once the good wishes and handshakes had been exchanged and exchanged again we left Ecuador with some fond memories and began to cross the bridge for Peru, got half way and were stopped. It would appear that the 1998 peace treaty between the two countries is in full swing here as we had to wait for the 3rd quarter of the Peru / Ecuador volley ball match to end before we could cross as the net had been erected across the mid point of the bridge.

To cut a long story short, we entered Peru with no further problems. The formalities were easy and free which is always nice and with only fumes in the tank we rolled into San Ignacio, 50 kilometers further on well and truly ready for a beer. That night Peru welcomed us with a substantial earth tremor that had everyone out in the streets and looking out for falling masonry. Our adventures continue in Peru now and it seems to be more of the same. Fantastic.

We found it at last!

Chris celebrates!