Ecuador in a Nutshell

Still buoyed by the incredible sight I'd just seen at Las Lajas, I made the short ride back across Ipiales to the Rumichaca border crossing to Ecuador. Canceling my Colombian TIP was as easy as handing it over to the DIAN agent, and getting my exit stamp from Colombia was more a matter of waiting in line than anything; quite a few Colombians were crossing over alongside me. I had been warned about the possibility of Venezuelan refugees packing the border crossing and making things difficult, but aside from a few tents pitched underneath the Red Cross shelter next to the Colombian station, and a few groups looking for rides by the roadside, I saw very few. Once everything was stamped and approved, I hopped on the bike and rode the short distance over the famous Rumichaca bridge to Ecuador.

Finally, after ten years, I was setting foot on Ecuadorian land again; my heart jumped just crossing the bridge. The entry process to Ecuador turned out to be the easiest I'd experienced since Mexico, just a few minutes in line and about 30 seconds at the passport window, and I was out of there with my entry stamp, for free to boot. Getting my TIP took a little more time, mostly because the guy ahead of me in line had an entire truckload of goods to declare, but once it was actually my turn, that process went smoothly as well.

From the time I first set foot in the country back in August 2009, through my month on the mainland and three months in the Galapagos, and all the way through the process of planning this trip, Ecuador was THE place I wanted to explore on a motorcycle. I'd absolutely fallen in love with the country ten years prior, enamored with its temperate climate, expansive mountain landscapes, friendly people, and the indigenous residents of the rural highlands who maintain strong cultural traditions to this day. I would be lying if I said that the excuse to fulfill my dream of motorcycling through Ecuador, one I'd held since before I even learned to ride, wasn't an almost equal driving force for doing this trip in the first place as reuniting with Ngaire in Santiago was. And now, thanks to over a week of not being able to enter the country, the impounding of my bike in Pasto, and the need to meet a November 30th deadline to meet Ngaire in Chiclayo, Peru where we'd continue our adventures together, I had five nights to spend in the country.

I cannot overstate how bitter I was, and to some degree still am about this last part; Quito alone would be worth five nights, to say nothing of the myriad other parts of Ecuador that are worth seeing, including the coast, the mountain highlands in the middle of the country, and the Amazon basin in the east. It grated on me to no end that I was going to have to skip so much of this amazing country, but on the flip side, I'd at least already seen much of the region surrounding Quito, and I'd still be seeing new places on my way south.

Making my way out of Tulcan, the Ecuadorian side of the border and onto the Panamericana revealed the kind of highland landscape I'd grown to love years ago. Rolling hills and valleys were covered with a patchwork of farm fields and livestock pastures in every shade of green, and while the low clouds muted the colors somewhat, I could still see for miles in every direction. The highway certainly didn't disappoint either, appearing to have been recently paved and winding nicely around the hills and valleys. I continued at a steady pace until stopping for lunch outside the city of Ibarra, about halfway between the border and Quito. It was in Ibarra that I started to see tangible evidence of just how extensive the Paro, the common name for the protests that had brought the entire country to a halt had been. Every few hundred meters, black lines crossed the road; on a closer look, I realized that I was looking at the marks left by lines of tires laid across the pavement and set on fire, leaving a series of burned circular imprints in the asphalt. It wasn't just the routes into and out of Ibarra; practically every major intersection showed evidence of roadblocks in all directions, and working my way through the city, it was clear that had I even been able to get across the border a week prior, I wouldn't have made it any further than this.

It wasn't just the major cities, either. Even the small towns I rode through along the route to Quito showed the telltale scars of the Paro on the roadways, and I soon understood why the Ecuadorian government had backtracked so quickly on the policies that touched off the protests in the first place. The outskirts of Quito, specifically around the airport, were full of roadblock remains, and it was obvious that had I somehow made it past the dozens of roadblocks on the Panamericana to Quito, Ngaire wouldn't have been able to make it out of the airport to meet me anywhere. Luckily, my only holdups came in the form of heavy traffic and a bit of rain, but I made it to Quito by the early evening, just in time to meet my former host family as they returned from work.

Lourdes and Fernando had hosted me for the first month of my semester abroad in 2009, and had treated me like close family from day 1 along with their son Diego, 10 years my junior. We had fallen out of touch for a few years, but I'd reached out to them in the very early stages of planning my trip and we'd been in steady contact for a couple of years, all looking forward to reconnecting. We had a lovely time catching up over dinner after years apart; they were particularly interested in Ngaire's and my wedding photos, and I was interested to hear about Diego's collegiate studies in the U.S., his interest in American football (we'd spent many afternoons playing soccer in their backyard, so I found this particularly amusing), and his work as an athletic trainer.

Lourdes, Fernando, and Diego back in 2009

I spent the morning of my only full day in Quito doing shamelessly touristy things at the equator. There is a huge monument called Mitad del Mundo on the northern edge of Quito, built at the site where a French explorer calculated the path of the Equator in 1736; unfortunately, the advent of GPS mapping showed that his estimate, and the monument, was about 250 meters too far south. There is another museum and monument built at the GPS-calculated equator, full of entertaining tricks supposedly only possible on the equator itself, including balance tricks and demonstrations of the coriolis effect using water. Things to take with a grain of salt, but it was fun. And, not having any photos of myself at the equator the previous time around, I wanted some keepsakes.

After I was done being a tourist, I headed back into town to meet some fellow riders at Ecuador Freedom Bike Rental. Located near the center of town, EFBR is one of the most famous names in motorcycle touring, offering guided tours, self-guided routes, and motorcycle rentals ranging from small dual-sports to 1000cc+ adventure bikes from Suzuki, BMW, and Honda (they have a couple of Africa Twins!), plus an extensive selection of gear for riders passing through. Three other riders I knew were staying there for the week: Stefan, Chris, and Nathan. I'd met Stefan way back in Antigua when we'd shared a room in the Mototours hostel, and been fascinated by stories from his round-the-world trip on his KTM 1190; Chris and Nathan had joined him in Panama City just prior to their crossing to Cartagena, and I'd met the two of them there. All had needed things fixed; Stefan had had suspension problems on the way, needing his shock rebuilt in Colombia, Chris's KTM 690 had needed its head gasket replaced, but Nathan's Yamaha Super Tenere turned out to have major top-end engine damage that would likely delay his trip for over a month. Still, it was great to catch up with the three of them, and we spent the afternoon waiting out rain showers at EFBR while poring over maps and planning routes with the owner, Court Rand. Court has a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of the dirt roads crisscrossing Ecuador, and was able to recommend some great routes for both Stefan and Chris, who would be spending a couple of weeks riding as many trails and off-road routes as possible, and my much quicker transit through the country that would still provide me with great scenery. He also sent me on my way with a free shirt and stickers, and his crew helped me find some replacement hand guards to fit the Twin; the ones I'd started the trip with had proven to be both flimsy and cumbersome, bending severely every time I'd fallen over, and reaching a point where they kept me from using the full steering range at low speed. Ecuador Freedom should be at the top of the list for any fellow riders going through Quito, and is a great destination in and of itself!

The next day, after heartfelt goodbyes to Lourdes and Fernando, I set out south again, heading for the town of Baños a few hours south of Quito. On the way, I hoped to pass by Cotopaxi, one of Ecuador's most famous and picturesque volcanoes; motorcycles aren't actually allowed in the national park surrounding the mountain without a permit, but I figured I'd still get some nice views from the road. Unfortunately, the thick clouds and rain I encountered shortly after leaving Quito had other ideas. I rode right past Cotopaxi, knowing it was just to my right, but couldn't see anything. The fog and rain didn't start to clear until I got off the Panamericana and onto a winding, rural route that Court had recommended to me, but once it did, I was greeted with more amazing views. After two hours of six-lane interstate-style highway, I was more than happy to get back into the mountains for real, even more so when the road turned to hardpacked dirt as I approached Baños, and I had a blast the rest of the ride.

Baños is located in a narrow valley formed by the Rio Pastazo, and is a well-known and highly regarded stop for tourists looking for any kind of outdoor activities and adventures. The last time I'd been there, I'd been talked into bungee-jumping off the bridge in the center of town, and then my friends and I had rented bicycles and spent the afternoon riding bike paths along the river canyon to an amazing series of waterfalls. I only really had the afternoon there and felt like bungee-jumping once was enough, but I wanted to revisit the waterfalls and see the canyon again, so after dropping my things at my hostel, I jumped back on the Twin and headed east along the road known as the Ruta de las Cascadas. With the fog cleared out, I had a beautiful view of the road and the canyon, but found to my surprise that I couldn't see quite as much as I had from the seat of a bicycle years prior; rather than running along the side of the cliffs as the bike paths do, the road wound through a series of tunnels bored into the side of the canyon, fun for motorcyclists but not as much for anyone looking for amazing views. Anyone visiting Baños who isn't in a time crunch as I was would be much better off doing the bicycle tour.

Still, the destination was the same, and it was an amazing one. After about half an hour, I pulled off at the entrance for Pailon del Diablo, or the Devil's Cauldron, paid the small entry fee, and began the short hike to the waterfall itself. Pailon del Diablo is one of the tallest waterfalls in Ecuador, falling nearly 80 meters down into a split valley, and is one of the most amazing and spectacular natural features I've ever been to. After a short hike to the base of the falls, you're able to get right up to the lip via a trail that's more of a crawlspace cut into the rock; at times, I was nearly flat on my stomach getting through! Once through the tight squeeze, a small stairway takes you to a point just a few meters from where the water cascades over the cliff; I happened to visit at the height of rainy season in Ecuador both times, and it is an incredible and awe-inspiring experience to have thousands of gallons of water shooting over your head. Soaked but thrilled, I crawled back down the access path, took a few more photos, and headed back to Baños for an evening of dinner, drinks, and lively conversation with the other guests at my hostel; most were around my age, and we had a great time swapping travel and life stories.

The next morning, I woke up to a low curtain of fog, but I didn't have much hope of escaping it, as I'd be heading back into the mountains on my way to Cuenca, another of Ecuador's major cities (and one of the most active sites of protest during the Paro). I'd like to tell you about all the great views I saw along the way, particularly since I went straight past Chimborazo, Ecuador's highest mountain and the furthest point from the center of the Earth...but I can't. I don't think I had more than 150 feet of forward visibility for the first two hours of my ride, and it was next to impossible to see anything beyond the shoulder and trees on the side of the road; at times I think visibility was down to 50 feet or less. Here's a photo from 2009 of Chimborazo and the valley below it so we can all see what I missed:

Given enough time, however, the sun always comes out, something I've found myself mentally repeating any time I start to think things are going wrong, and so it was this time. It took a while, and a little more altitude, but I finally found myself under blue skies again, riding the Panamericana, or Troncal de la Sierra as it's called through most of Ecuador, through Riobamba and the many indigenous communities surrounding it, on past the Parque Nacional Sanguay, which I regrettably didn't have the time to explore past a glance. The emerging sun was evaporating the morning's rainfall off the roads and farm fields, and watching the indigenas working their crops through the rising steam made for an extremely cool effect that I was almost wholly unable to capture in pictures.

For the second day in a row, I made it to my destination, Alternative Hostel in downtown Cuenca, with plenty of daytime to spare; I can't remember the last time this happened. Cuenca is famous for its extensive colonial-era architecture, and the city's historic center did not disappoint. I spent the evening exploring the central square and the well-preserved buildings and churches surrounding it. The central cathedral in particular was a wonder; built of alabaster and red marble and topped by three enormous blue-and-white domes, it was so big I couldn't fit the entire facade in one photo. Cuenca's city hall was equally impressive, with the same locally quarried red marble making up its large columns and much of the exterior. There were also a few nice murals around the area, along with all kinds of anti-government graffiti left over from the Paro. With the sun fading, I found a place to eat, then ambled back to my hostel to spend the rest of the night working on photos and writing.

Waking early the next morning, I grabbed a quick breakfast at the cafe adjacent to my hostel, then loaded back up and prepared to head out for Loja. I was stopped on my way out by the Brazilian volunteer working the desk, who tied a simple necklace made from a Colombian coin around my neck and wished me safe travels. Riding off with a warm feeling inside, I continued south towards Loja, the last city I'd be visiting in Ecuador. Loja is well known as a musical and cultural hub of Ecuador, and I was excited to experience the local music, something I hadn't heard much of on my previous visit. The ride between the two cities was absolutely gorgeous; I had perfect weather the whole way, the roads were both smooth and very curvy, and while the ride should have taken around four hours, I made several stops for photos, and one for some unbelievably good mote pillo con chorizo; mote is a traditional Ecuadorian dish made from cooked corn grains mixed with boiled eggs and spices, usually accompanied by some sort of meat. I'd never had it before, and it was one of the tastiest dishes I'd eaten in South America thus far. 

I arrived in Loja in the late afternoon, greeted by a small rainbow over the city, and after dropping my bags and parking the bike at the AirBnB I'd reserved, I set off to explore the center of town and hopefully find a bar or live music venue to spend the evening in. I succeeded quite nicely in my first venture; Loja's downtown area is exceedingly walkable, very clean, and wholly pleasant to spend an afternoon in, with more colonial-era buildings and the requisite old churches found in nearly every former Spanish colony. I sat in on Sunday services at the cathedral for a short while, as the city was celebrating an annual holiday revolving around the pilgrimage of a sacred statue of the Virgin Mary between Loja and one of the smaller mountain towns, then carried on. When it came to my quest for music, however, I failed miserably; apparently practically everything in Loja closes early on Sundays, and the city effectively shuts down after 5 P.M. I hadn't known this going in, but even if I had, it wouldn't have made a difference with the short timetable I was on. Dejected, I found a quick dinner and then retired to my room for the night to write, edit a few photos, and catch up on some Netflix shows I'd been missing.

Monday would be my final day in Ecuador, one I'd spend riding to the border crossing at Macara, and hopefully getting as far into Peru as I could manage during daylight hours. I sorely wished for another day in the country, particularly to see some of Loja's attractions, but I had two days left before meeting Ngaire in Chiclayo, which would have been an 8-9 hour ride even before the border crossing, and I've learned the hard way to never assume that Google's driving estimates are correct. Adding to my annoyance, I dug into my bags to get my waterproof gloves, expecting rain on my way out, only to find that they weren't there. I'd worn them most of the previous day, and it struck me that after changing to my summer gloves prior to arriving in Baños, I had almost certainly left them on the rear rack in my haste to get going. Chalk them up as a casualty of the trip, I guess. I stopped by a bike shop on my way out and surprisingly found another pair of waterproof gloves that fit me, so $30 later I was back on the road with dry hands. On my way out of Loja, I stopped at the elaborate gate to the city, an elaborate Spanish-style construction housing a huge clock and galleries dedicated to the city's history and art. 

I watched the landscape change drastically as I made my way from Loja down the mountains towards Macara, changing from lush, humid-yet-cool highlands to the "bosque seco," or tropical dry forest, an ecosystem unique to coastal Ecuador and Peru that has been nearly wiped out by deforestation and agriculture, to near-desert by the time I made it out of the mountains. Even if I was out of time in the country, I still made sure to plot a route that would give me the best views I could find, and a few dirt roads to have fun on along the way. I'd enjoyed my return to Ecuador as much as reasonably possible, but still couldn't shake the feeling that I'd been screwed out of a far better experience by the events that befell me in Pasto. I had already resolved that my first time through Ecuador by motorcycle wouldn't be my last, but I wasn't going to give myself time to be bitter about it: Peru awaited.