Our Last Week in Ecuador

After returning from the Galápagos Islands, Brian and I spent one last night in Quito before heading south. We rode to Riobamba and awoke early the next morning to try and get a good view of Chimborazo Volcano via an hour and a half detour up the mountain, climbing 6,000 ft to an elevation over 15,000 ft. Unfortunately, mother nature had other plans and the entire volcano was covered by clouds.

Thus, we headed back down the mountain and south toward Cuenca. We had heard there is a large retired American ex-pat community in Cuenca (due to cheap housing prices, good healthcare, and the overall beauty of the city), so we figured it might be a good place to spend Thanksgiving. About 30 km south of Quito, we encountered a milk farmer "paro" (roadblock). These are common in South America as a form of protest, and these farmers were protesting imported powdered milk by blocking off the main artery out of the city for over eight hours. Fortunately, we were able to squeeze past the 8 km of stopped cars on our bikes and ride right between the protesters and the riot police as the police began to mobilize. We made it to Cuenca just before sundown, after getting soaked by an afternoon rain storm.

We spent our first couple days in Cuenca getting the bikes serviced, hitting up the local gym for a long overdue workout, installing heated grips on the bikes (one of the many things Allen so graciously brought to the Galápagos from the U.S.), and walking the beautiful colonial streets.

Not wanting to resort to KFC chicken and mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving, we asked around to find out if there were any Thanksgiving events happening in the city. We had heard about a local cafe that is owned by an Ecuadorian who lived in the U.S., so we headed there for breakfast to start the day off with some pancakes and maple syrup (a harder to find delicacy in South America) and to inquire about ex-pat holiday gatherings. After eating way too much sugar and acquiring our intel, we headed over to a restaurant to get our tickets for a Thanksgiving dinner. Little did we know what we were in for....

It was a very entertaining evening, complete with turkey, mashed potatoes, a U.S. 70s-80s rock cover band, and plenty of hilarious dancing.

The following morning, we took a day trip to Cajas National Park via a beautiful, winding road up into the mountains.

The next day, we decided it was time to continue heading south, so we packed up our bags and hit the road, aiming to reach the town of Loja that evening. After a couple hundred kilometers down the Pan-American Highway, with about 20 km to go, we encountered a roadblock of a different variety: a rockslide. Based on the number of cars stuck on either side, the rockslide couldn't have happened more than 10 mins before we arrived. People began either getting out of their cars to try and move some of the non-truck-sized boulders off the road, while others ditched their public transportation and began walking to their destinations, possibly hoping to catch a bus on the other side.

With no other road to detour on, and not wanting to turn around, we quickly decided that we would try to ride around the edge of the rockslide where there appeared to be rough path through. Brian rode his bike up the embankment, while I helped push the bike to get over and around rocks. With Brian's bike safely over to the other side, we attempted to do the same with mine - this was complicated by other motorists who were trying to clear the rocks by unwittingly throwing them right in our path. With a bit more effort and some tighter squeezing, we finally got my bike through the massive rockslide and continued on.

We were in for another surprise when we arrived in Loja. After unpacking the bikes and changing out of our riding gear, we headed into the old town for dinner and drinks and found ourselves in the middle of a massive street festival. It turned out we just happened to be there for the culmination of a week-long performing arts festival. We spent the evening watching the numerous street performers and trying out local craft beers.

Our next stop was Macará, a small town near the Peruvian border that didn't have too many redeemable qualities except for its proximity to the border and the last place to fill up with cheap Ecuadorian gas before Peru. We spent the night here and awoke early the next morning to cross the border. This particular border crossing sees very little traffic and we managed to stamp ourselves and the bikes out of Ecuador in no time and acquire the mandatory motorcycle insurance for Peru ($30 per bike for one month). We were the only people in line to get stamped into Peru and all was going well until the friendly but sleep-deprived customs officials told us that the Pan American Highway was impassable about an hour down the road into Peru due to - you guessed it - angry farmers cutting the road. The customs officials had been working for over 24 hours straight as their relief shift was unable to make it up to the border. They urged us to return to Ecuador and try a different border crossing about two hours away via a twisty mountain road instead, but also said that the roadblock might open up around noon. We took some time to think through our options. On the one hand, a two hour detour didn't seem so bad if it meant we would avoid a roadblock that could potentially last for days. On the other hand: riding back into Ecuador after already surrendering our TVIPs (Temporary Vehicle Import Permits), with no valid re-entry stamp, and via a seldom used mountain road didn't seem that great either. We pondered this dilemma for a few more minutes and eventually decided to press on and take our chances with the roadblock.

Cheers,

Erin and Brian