Pedaling South

Et nous nous amusons comme des fous!

[View with PicLens]

[View with PicLens]

From beautiful Quito, we followed the road south deeper into the mountains.

The Bomberos stations in the Andean towns of Machachi and Ambato actually have guest books for cyclists and other travellers who pass through!

We had too much fun in Riobamba, a colonial city roughly 3000 metres above sea level. We were adopted by Diego and Juan in the city’s San Alfonso station. They were extremely keen in getting us to try out the firefighting gear (complete with oxygen tank!) and on taking us for a ride through town in the fire truck!

We went to the impressive outdoor market, cooked meals, and savored the cool (cold!) evenings. After a 3-day rest, we said “Oh yeah, we have a plane to catch!” and started hammering. We spent a magical day in the mountains before freefalling back down to sea level.

Let it be said that Ecuador grows a lot of bananas. At least the monotony helped our mileage. It feels like we just got to this amazing country, and we’re already at the Peruvian border. We hope we’ll have the chance to return some day.

Yesterday we learned that a couple of our fellow bike travellers, Seth and Parker, narrowly avoided being robbed on the highway just outside of Paijan, Peru, about a 4-day ride south from the border. For some years now, a group of thieves whose specialty is robbing bicycle tourists has been operating out of this small coastal town. And there’s no alternate route. The details of the horrible experience (which obviously could have been far worse, as both brothers escaped with their lives and their bikes) were harrowing – 4 masked men trying to run them off the road, busy traffic passing by as though nothing were happening. Nightmare!

For 11 months now, people have been telling us “You can’t ride there! You’ll get robbed / eaten / beheaded / kidnapped!!!” But for the first time in the trip, we’re actually going to bus through a place for safety reasons. There are limits to our folly, and we aim to complete this adventure, bikes and limbs intact, all the way to its end.

Onward to Peru!!!!

Ils sont partout, à perte de vue, sur des centaines de kilomètres. Ils sont en tellement grande quantité, qu’ici, les bananes ne valent presque rien. Hier après-midi, on s’est arrêtés dans l’un des nombreux kiosques à bananes (justement!) en bordure de la route. Torrey demande au garçon de lui en vendre pour 0,25$ en espérant en recevoir cinq en retour, c’est-à-dire deux fois plus qu’en Colombie. Pour ce prix, lui-répond-t-il, vous pouvez repartir avec la branche au complet, environ 60. On se regarde alors en pouffant de rire, stupéfaits du prix dérisoire de sa valeur marchande. « Alors donnez m’en pour 0,05$! » Le vendeur nous en tend huit, regarde notre pièce de cinq sous, puis insiste pour que l’on reparte sans payer. Si vous faites un calcul rapide, chaque banane de la branche revenait à un demi-sous.

Hier, notre odomètre s’est enflammé: 153 km au compteur, une journée record! De Pallatanga, un village quelque part à quelques 3000 mètres d’altitude, nous nous sommes laissés descendre jusqu’en bas. Nous avons laissé derrière nous les Andes majestueuses, la fraîcheur de l’air ainsi que les peuples indigènes qui ne semblent pas se rendre si bas. À ce rythme, nous franchirons la frontière péruvienne demain. Déjà!

Welcome to Team Pedaling South’s grizzly dark side. By day, we promote cycling as a viable transportation alternative. By night, we munch on basted, roasted rodents by the roadside. Guinea pig, or cuy, is a popular delicacy in the Andes.

Mom put a couple of bucks in our fund and said we should have something special for my birthday supper. I think this qualifies.

Enjoy the videos!

Lundi soir, c’est la nuit des coeurs brisés chez les pompiers de Machachi, Ecuador. On a dû se joindre à eux pour une chanson ou deux. Je les ai prévenu à l’avance que je ne savais pas chanter!

Bon, ça y est. Après dix journées prisonniers des bons traitements de Santiago et de sa famille et cinq tentatives de départ remis au lendemain, nous reprenons la route!

Gardez un oeil sur la map… on va bouger!

Reality Check

It was hard to leave Colombia behind. After more than 50 days inside its borders, we’d become comfortable and familiar with the country’s vibe. We were lucky to have the chance to meet some great people and spend a little time in the towns and cities, like Barancabermeja, Puerto Salgar, Bogota and San Agustin.

Colombia’s staggering natural beauty, its generous, open and friendly people and its rich literary and visual arts culture left a deep impression on us. One of our last encounters there, however, helped to balance the somewhat ideal and rosy conception we’d formed of the country: near the southern border we stayed with a displaced family that had recently had their farm stolen (then sold) by the guerillas. Until that point, we preferred to believe that the violence and political instability so often associated with the country were real but exaggerated threats, like grizzly bears in the North, cougars in the West, Mexican drug gangs and Panamanian pirates. But the threat is real. In parts of Colombia, guerrillas apparently can steal and sell your house (or much worse) and there’s not much you can do about it. We spent a good part of the evening talking with 52 year-old Gustavo, the financial head of his small family, who now sells live fish off the back of a motorbike to put food on the table. Gustavo’s Sisyphean resilience in the face of loss was deeply moving. He simply doesn´t have the luxury of sorrow or self-pity. He can only look forward, he says, or go mad.

Bomberos, our new pals

We made an important discovery in our last few miles of Colombia: bomberos, or firefighters! Bomberos stations in South America have a tradition of welcoming travellers like us for a night or two (or more)! They have kitchen facilities, showers, and sometimes beds. And they’re in towns, which means Lucie and I can walk around, at night, without our bikes and gear, like normal people. Our first bomberos experience was in Pasto, Colombia. John, the station’s mechanic and ambulance driver, went well out of his way to make sure we felt at home. He welcomed us in, introduced us to the entire crew and even brought us over to meet his family. He was a phone call away from signing us up to join the service. Since then, we’ve stayed in stations in Tulcan, Ibarra and Otavalo, all in Ecuador. (Note: if you’re riding from the north toward Ibarra, the Bomberos station is about 3 km north of town, on the Lake of Blood. Great camping!)

Ecuador’s Majestic Beauty and Santiago’s Casa Ciclista

We are now officially in the Andes, breathing the rarefied air between 2500 and 4000 metres above sea level. Every day we’re treated to the kind of views you would normally expect to see through an airplane window. We’re eye-level with the clouds, surrounded by alternating high desert, forests, and a stunning patchwork of alpine fields. There are fewer people. Fewer fences. This means the world is our campground once again. The force and scale of the natural beauty of Ecuador is recharging my batteries in all kinds of ways. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.

[View with PicLens]

After a few short days of cycling at high altitude (which included crossing The Line, i.e. the equator), we finally made it to Quito, the second-highest capital in South America. We’re now guests of the Casa Ciclista in Tumbaco, a laid-back suburb of Quito, where our amazing host Santiago is constantly plotting, trying to figure ways to make us settle down here permanently. He’s doing a pretty good job. Every morning after breakfast he plants us in front of the Tour de France. Then we go for a mountain bike ride on converted railway trails through the valley, where we gawk at the imposing snow-covered Cotopaxi volcano and glimpse the shining city of Quito in the distance. Then we come back to the house and prepare a gigantic almuerzo, the mid-afternoon meal that makes up for the traditionally diminutive breakfast and supper (basically hot chocolate or coffee with a roll). If we don’t get out of here soon, we’ll never leave.

[View with PicLens]

This past Saturday (July 17) was my 35th birthday. It was also the send-off party for fellow Montrealer Jeremie, whose bike tour north from Argentina ended in a 10 week stay here in Quito! There was a massive barbecue, beer, singing and cake. A bunch of Santiago’s cyclist friends and members of his extended family came over to celebrate. It was fantastic.

We spent yesterday touring Quito’s gorgeous historic centre, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. We were overwhelmed by the imposing colonial architecture, especially the churches, many of which date from the 17th Century.

[View with PicLens]

From here we’ll head south through the mountains. We have to make it to Lima, Peru by August 11th, when we’ll fly back to Montreal for Marie-Claude and David’s wedding. Then we’ll be back in Peru on September 1st, southbound to Argentina. This is kind of an ideal point in our journey. Over the last ten months we’ve been exposed to more raw beauty and adventure than we could have imagined. We’re currently surrounded by interesting, dynamic, good-hearted people in a ridiculously beautiful country. And we’re about to be treated to a dose of friends, family and familiarity to insulate us from homesickness and help us to appreciate the rest of our quest even more. Fortune isn’t just smiling on us, it seems; she’s howling and slapping her knees.

PS: A Casa Ciclista, a Latin American phenomenon, is simply a place that welcomes travelling cyclists. Our first Casa was in Ensenada, Mexico. Since then, we stopped in Claudio’s Casa in Bogota and Paola and Igel’s Finca Ciclista in San Agustin.