Overanxious rangers, freezing fishing mission, and hypermiling to Chimacum

When Kelly and I set out on our five day backpacking trip to high divide and the seven lakes basin we were expecting rain but had high hopes. There had just been a storm and there was supposed to be another one coming in during our trip. There was a typical overcast mist in the air as we entered the ranger station in Port Angeles. We asked if there was much snow on high divide yet, the backcountry ranger shrugged and said "not much". He routinely typed out our pass and handed us the bear canisters and we headed on our way. Just as we were going to pull out of the parking lot though he came marching up to the car.
"So looks like you got some weather coming in on Thursday. You looked at the weather report?"
"Yeah, I saw that there was a bit of a storm coming in" I replied.
He smiled a bit unconvincingly "Well you got warm clothes I see...waterproof jackets...so if you get caught in a snow storm ya know, just hunker down."
That made us a bit more uneasy...we didn't really want to "hunker down" in a snow storm at 5000 ft. Our first two nights were at a bit lower elevation though. We figured we would just go those two nights and see what the weather is like.

As we arrived at the trail head just a bit above Solduc resort the weather was alternating between rain and mist. Random tourists trudged off the trail wearing multicolored see-through ponchos, getting their picnics out under umbrellas. As we set off for a short hike to Mink lake we passed the ranger station and noticed that we were being followed by what seems to be another overanxious ranger. He was very polite and in a round about way asked for our wilderness permit and made sure we had bear canisters. Just like the other ranger he seemed to think we were a bit crazy to be going camping in...oh no...rain! He also sort of listed items offhand that we would need...but that he could obviously see we had.
"I see you got your pack covers and rain gear there. That's good. Warm clothes?"
Can't blame him, probably get a lot of people who come completely unprepared for the drastic changes the northwest weather can make. We tried to put him at ease and then headed up the 150o ft elevation gain to our first campsite.

It felt real good to be hiking with a heavy pack again. Tiring, but good. I had never seen so many different kinds of mushrooms at one time before. So many huge obviously poisonous ones, a few golden chantrelles and countless others. As the rain pattered on my shoulders and seeped into my hair I hit the zone of thinking about everything while at the same time not thinking about anything. We stopped occasionally to munch on delicious wild blueberries.

When we got to Mink lake the vision in my head came true. There was a big opening of blue sky directly above the water. The vegetation on the edges of the lake glistened bright green with the reflection of the sun in water droplets. During camp set up Kelly and I realized just how cold it was. Just a week earlier and I think we would have missed the cold snap. The good thing is that there was no one else anywhere near us, we had the place to ourselves. After a burrito dinner we got in our sleeping bags and fell asleep to the sound of raindrops dripping from fir branches.

The morning hit us cold but rainless. So we quickly ate our oatmeal, drank our coffee, stocked up on water and set off to make tracks over two small passes before ending at deer lake. We got up into snow encrusted alpine meadows. And it stayed mostly rain-free the entire hike. We were hoping to see a bear but a deer and a grouse would have to suffice.

When we got to our campsite I made some coffee with a bit of whisky in it and I set off to try my hand at fishing. I hadn't fished in about a decade...no idea what I was doing and so I didn't catch anything. But had a good time yelling at the stupid trout to get on my lure.

Kelly and I looked up at where we were supposed to be headed, high divide, and it looked fairly covered with snow. And there was supposed to be a good storm coming through the next day when we were planning on hiking on the highest part of the ridge. Not much to our liking, so the next morning we headed back out to the car, satisfied in our decision not to get caught in a snow storm.

----------------------------------------------------

I did get another chance at fishing though. Last Saturday Stefan, Joss, Homer and I set off on a little fishing day trip to Silver lake. As we pulled up the the trailhead I looked down at my gas meter just as the little E light blinked on. We had been driving for what seemed like ages since Quilcene and apparently, Stefan informed us, there isn't even a gas station in Quilcene, the nearest one is in Chimacum. Hmm...that was stupid, it appeared that on our way back from the hike we were going to run out of gas. I have never run out of gas, I like to think that I am enough of a forward thinker to fill up when it gets low. I guess I kinda forgot to do that this time. We decided to deal with it later.

We set off just before a bunch of Asian guys about our age who were grossly underprepared. They seemed to all be wearing basketball trainers, shorts and cotton tee-shirts. And the one day pack between them could not have contained much. Joss set out ahead to see if he could bag a grouse while Homer, Stef and I trudged up the seemingly unending, very steep mountainside. We played leapfrog with the unprepared group and as we increased in elevation it seemed to start to get very cold. A few groups of smart-ass middle aged folks came down wearing full-on, warm raingear commenting that we should look out for the group of boys ahead of us. Also commenting on our intentions.
"Going fishing?" no, we are just carrying fishing rods...
"Oh the lake is frozen."
Good one buddy. Real funny. Hopefully he was joking, I think we all half believed him at first.
Once the group of underprepared Asians heard there was a lake they were dead set on going also. Luckily when we got to the turn off for Silver lake we mentioned to them that it was about another 2-something miles to the lake. Oh did I mention that by this time it was snowing? I think the distance and weather convinced them to turn back.

After what seemed like much more hiking then we were expecting we made it to the lake. The trees all around were crusted with snow. As we started fishing the ends of our rods were icing up and generating frost. Made it a bit harder to cast.

Stefan caught the first one and expectedly, instantly started gloating about it.
"Well, real fishermen do it this way.", etc...
Joss and I started getting some serious bites and it wasn't before too long that I dragged one in. Joss got two right up to the edge of the lake and then they flapped off the hook just at the last minute. And Homer would never get a bite when he was looking at his bobber, but everytime he left reaching distance of his pole we saw the bobber start to dip and he would run back just as the fish stopped biting at his bait.

Needless to say the later it got in the day the colder it got, so about 5 o'clock rolled around and we were all freezing, so we set off back up and over the ridge. The last mile before the parking lot was covered by trees and super dark. We were in ankle rolling town, roots and rocks threatened us on every step. We clapped to scare off the bears and cougars and planned our methods of killing four attacking bears at once.

When we finally made it down to the car we looked at the gas gauge and Stef made the prediction that we would definitely would make it to Chimacum if we "hypermile" the entire way. So I basically glided down the entire road to Quilcene in neutral and then took it real, real easy on the uphills, gathered as much speed on the downhills as possible and we ended up making to to Chimacum with .2 of a gallon left. Success! After a healthy dinner of gas station fried chicken and jojos I went home exhausted but satisfied.

Breaking the block -- The weekend of awesomeness.

I have been having a hard time getting myself to write on this thing since we got back from Ecuador. So I am just gonna go for it, it may be a bit of mental splatter though.

Was it two weekends ago now...three? Well I meant to write about it. About the weekend of complete awesomeness. So it all started with our friend Andy deciding to come visit us on his few days off from Orkila. Then it turned out that Emily was also on Orcas and so hitched a ride. This also inspired Ethan to hitch down the next day as well. Meanwhile James is over in Port Angeles and Danielle on her way to visit him from Seattle. Wizzard hears of all of this and...boom! on a plane and getting picked up by Danielle. This is just a recipe for an amazing weekend on the Peninsula.

We played games and music the first night in our little cottage accompanied by Heather, Kevin and Spencer. The next day I had to work a double (the usual thursday) but James, Andy, Emily and Kelly reverted to their childhood roots as they scared each other all over Fort Wardon...and Andy has plenty of pictoral and video proof of it. That evening was host to an epic Clue: Master Detective battle. We wore masks and all...and if I remember correctly...no one won.

On Friday we packed it up and headed out to James' tent village on the Elwha river. Once there we were finally all assembled and we loitered about throwing and kicking various items around as we all caught up. After a simple sandwich lunch we set off to the Olympic hot springs. After a short hike and a quick but enthralling game of pooh sticks off a very small bridge, we made it. Most of the pools were either too small, too algaey, or too occupied for all of us. But with a bit of patience the best pool opened up and we swooped in to take it. It was amazing to be with so many incredable people in a natural hot spring in the olympics, drinking whiskey and playing mini games of "let's see who can hit that first" or "see if you can get a rock to sit on that log from over here". Happiness is what I would call it.

That night we had a brat and veggie barbeque and hit the sack early. Because the next morning we got up and headed to the Hoh river basin. The only temperate rainforest in the U.S. (and North America?). James and I donned hard shell kayaks (the one that I recently purchased) and everyone else was in an inflatable kayak, creating a fleet of duckies! James valiently and successfully led us all down a super fun and beautiful section of the river with only two unintended flips! River kayaking is amazing. So much different then Ocean. All you are doing is trying to avoid rocks and trees while keeping your balance in the boat. But it is so much more complicated than that. And it gives you such a rush and a sense of accomplishment...much like rock climbing.

After the paddle we headed back to Port Townsend for a bit of a rest before we headed out to Spencer's Robot vs. Ninja going away party. Spencer is known for throwing good parties and having a great time. I know I always do when I'm around him. He is in NY now doing what he loves and what he needs to do to get the knowledge to do what he wants to do later in life...aren't we all? Anyways, the party was a blast, a crazy shmorgasborg of costumes and beer pong and well, insanity. I think that is the only way to sum that up.

I think I really wanted to write about that weekend because it was so eventful. Other than that I have been working a lot waiting tables and cooking food down at Water St. Also kayaking a bit and climbing a fair amount. Going to bars, playing poker. But nothing quite that eventful. I have about 2 more weeks of it then it is on to eventfulness again! October holds a lot of potential in it. Backpacking, kayaking, coast and a road trip all beckon to Kelly and I...almost there. We will update again when something happens.

Spring/Summer Omnibus Update

(And by August 10th, I mean August 18th)

Oh my, it's August. 4 months have passed since the last update, which is completely inexcusable. Because things have been happening. Interesting things. Important things. To whom, exactly, these things will be found important or interesting remains debatable, but they are things nonetheless, and here is a list of them:

April-June

• Mike and Kelly return to lovely Orcas Island, WA to teach environmental education and be merry for the remainder of the spring
• We jump right into the beauty of the San Juans with an overnight paddle to Sucia Island with some wonderful friends.
  
• Wilderness First Responder certifications are bestowed upon us. We can now splint broken femurs with kayak paddles and build litters out of sticks and jackets. The most important lesson of all, however, is the discovery that fake blood is hard to separate from Gore-Tex.
• We bravely survive the Orkila Swine Flu Week of Doom, during which children were sent home on quarantined buses, suspect staff members were sequestered to separate houses, the wearing of masks and gloves became commonplace, and swine jokes ran rampant. The week culminated in Immunity Olympics ceremonies, wherein we were reunited with our infected brethren and our spirits were lifted through the running of relay races.
• We rejoice in the availability of kayaks and go on many-a-paddle. Cascade Lake provides a great place to learn new skills, sans salt and extra-cold water. Mike soon perfects his roll. Kelly needs a bit more practice.
  
• While transporting kayaks to said lake, we realize that the car looks damn sexy with boats on the roof.
• New friendships are formed, old friendships are strengthened, and some friendships are divided over the Pabst v. Rainier debate.
  

June

• With the Spring OEE season over, we head back to Port Townsend to enjoy the summer and save a little money. The Olympic Peninsula sure is hard to beat...
• On our first day back in town, we head out to Boom Fest, a giant community potluck/party and reunite with just about everyone we know. Hooray for summertime.
• We head to Leavenworth, WA with Leif and Freya for a few days of rock climbing and sunshine. Kelly actually climbs up a rock for the first time ever, starting with a trad crack route. She also realizes that she needs much more arm and finger strength. And a cute chalk bag.
• Kelly and Mike both make triumphant returns to the food service industry. Huzzah! Such is the way of summer employment in PT.
  

July

• Summer carries on with a good balance of work and play: a few adventures in the mountains, some climbing here and there, and little-bit-o-kayaking.
• Kelly heads to the far-away land of Fort Worden State Park for a week to be an instructor for the Port Townsend Marine Science Center's marine biology camp. She gets to hang out with some pretty awesome kids and do lots of class teaching, tide pooling, critter poking, and peanut butter sandwich making. She also turns 25.
• Meanwhile, Mike heroically hones his mechanic skills when the starter in the car dies. Two days are spent replacing it. Next up: oil change.
• A heat wave strikes the Pacific Northwest. Air conditioning doesn't exist in PT, and a week is lost in a haze of sweaty lethargy.
  

August

• Kelly starts to write a blog, but it takes her over a week to actually post it. Typical.
• A hint of monotony begins to set in, but is thwarted by a whirlwind reunion of friends, the Olympic mountains and their hot spring, the Hoh River, Clue, robots, ninjas, and much more. Just what the doctor ordered. A full report to come soon.
  

Riverdancing grandmas and hat pumping islanders

Northwest rain spits on the windows of the ferry. After travelling for almost 24 hours, including sleeping on the floor in the LA airport, we arrived in Seattle. Immediately when we got to LA we felt we were in a land of giants. White giants. Americans are big, not necessarily fat, they just have very large frames. All of a sudden everyone can hear us, everyone looks like us. Everything is much cleaner, even in LA. As we taxi in the plane I make a comment about the clothing choices surrounding us.
"What are we in leather jacket town. In the midst of a leather jacket gang?"
Kelly and I chuckle with sleep deprived delerium. We both wish Leif was still travelling with us, so he could add to the trademark nonsense critisism that has been the form of communication for the past 2 months. A few minutes after the comment one of the leather jacket mafia looks at me and says "where are you from?"
Crap. He was standing right next to me...people can understand me now, time to start censoring my thoughts again.

We are greeted in Seattle by over joyed parents, my mom and Roger picked us up with Waterfront pizza in hand and huge grins on their faces. Can't really ask for a better welcome. Of course we take our requisite REI trip and Kelly and I wearily try on running shoes. When we finally make it home, instead of resting we have to go immediately to our storage unit and start packing, we only have one day in Port Townsend before heading up to Orcas Island. Our brief time in PT is dominated by sushi, decent beer, packing and visiting. We grab a cup of coffee with Alex and we talk about culture shock, motorcycles, instant coffee, future plans, cribbage legacies...it is good to be back, strange, but good.

When we get to Orcas Island we are greeted by a new face. Thomas asks if we are here for the WFR and we reply that we are, however we are also here for the next two months to work. We have to move our car, there is a group here, nothing seems to change. As we move our stuff in we are greeted by a few familiar faces but mostly new ones, all friendly, it feels like we all already know each other. There is a bond that people who have or do work here share. Whether you have met each other before or not, similar to the bond of people who grew up in PT, there exists something unseen, something cosmic. We sit around in the living room and catch up/learn each others stories. We get excited about the WFR and future kayak plans. Talk about slacklining and learning to roll a kayak.

Less than 18 hours after we arrived we start taking the intense 80 hour wilderness medicine course that is the WFR. After a day of learning how to approach and assess injured hikers, the whole staff almost takes trip to see a ska show down at the Lower. Less than 3 days ago we were surrounded by short ecuadorians speaking a foreign language, carrying bags of live chickens and small trees on trails between villages. Now we are in a dimly lit pub surrounded by friends and tall dreadlocked islanders. Surrounded by hippie chicks in flowing skirts and colorful scarves, old ladies who dance without abandon, throwing down the charlton and riverdance moves. Half myself feels like I have just entered a foreign country and half feels as though I have come back home.

Ciao!

And we´re off! After saying good-bye to Leif on Sunday, Mike and I wandered around the deserted streets of Cuenca, killing time until our 9 pm bus (our last bus ride!). We arrived in Quito early in the morning, then spend most of Monday napping, milling around the hostal, watching movies, etc. Mike had a case of what seems to be food poisoning, which conveniently surfaced during the overnight bus ride, so it was a pretty low-key day. Now we have 24-hours of plane travel ahead of us, including a night in the LA airport. After arriving in Seattle we´ll have a day and half to head to Port Townsend, re-sort through all of our belongs, pack up the car and head to Orcas Island! Wilderness First Responder starts on Saturday. It will be a whirlwhind of a transition, but I´m excited for what´s next. Back to teaching and island life!

It´s hard to believe our three months are over. This place no longer seems foreign, and has even started to feel like home. There is much to reflect on and process. For now, though, it´s time to go hail our last cab ride.

Parque Cajas

It is 7 AM and the smell on the bus is strawberry flouride. Febreeze chemical stench masking vomit. On the way out of Cuenca I watch the city turn to suburbs, then from small pueblos to houses scattered among rock and rolling hills. We enter Cajas national park and follow the twisting road to the ranger station. Leif, Kelly and I set out for this hike as early as possible because the park is known to loose visitors in afternoon fog. The trails are rumored to be poorly marked. Compass skills are recommended.

The lake at the base of the ranger station is surrounded by intricate rock formations jutting out of light green hills. As we make our way on the sendero the morning sun pokes through the clouds and the green algae that dominates the lake is lit up. We walk through small forests with twisty, peeling red trees. Something out of fairytales. The ground is alternating between spongy wetland vegetation, rock and firm soil. Small streams feed the lake.

We get to a fork in the trail and the route that we want to take (to the top of a near by peak) is signed in the direction we just came from. There is a small trail heading up the peak, straight up. However this is the paramo and the tufts of tan grass are all separated by veins of brown dirt making trails appear everywhere. We continue up anyways and the trail becomes more obvious. Raising our feet high with each step our quads work hard to get us up the steep ascent. We are all breathing hard, we are at 4,000 meters (more than 13,000 feet). We are almost scrambling up the loose dirt and rock. I take a detour to boulder over a small rock. Leif goes bigger and climbs up short face. All along the hike up Leif and I spot great rock climbing potential. Decent boulders, huge walls.

We make it up to a ridge and the view of Cajas opens up. Spotting the landscape are tons of small lakes connected like a web by rocky stream beds. Green hills accented by sharp rock raise above the lakes like fingers to the sky. Past the small valleys of Cajas formed by glaciers we can glimse larger peaks, mountains in the distance. Blue sky lines the horizon in most directions.

The ridge is covered with boulders and the trail winds between and over them. Once at the cumbre we take a victory photo and find a boulder for lunch. As the meal of tuna and veggies sinks in, I have a lay down on the hot rock and cover my eyes from the sun.

On the descent the trail loses form, we find ourselves in the veins of the paramo with out a clear path. Instead of turning back we decide to go forward, to blaze through the unrelenting grasses and pricker bushes. Pretty much every piece of vegetation is spiky and the grass is slippery beneath our boots. A deer bounds away from us. We can see the road so we head over the hills in its direction. We squish through a small wetland, the ground giving way with each foot like a natural crash pad. I spot a family of very large tadpoles and we investigate for a moment.

Leif and I come to the edge of a small cliff but there seems to be a way down following a crumbily rock wall. With a hand on the wall and the other out for balance I half walk and half slide down the hill. The grass makes you slip, the rocks give way, and the dirt falls apart making it a difficult task to descend. But we make it down and into another wetland. The wetland floor is dotted with strange plants. Red fingers, tiny multicolored flowers.

Strangely we actually reconnect with the trail and follow it down a stream bed and through one of the small fairy tale forests to the lake. So we complete the hike with our requisite half an hour detour and get to the road to wait for a bus. After waiting for about twenty minutes, throwing rocks at the paint line on the road, a bus appears. And for no apparent reason it does not stop. So we wait for another hour. Leif and I boulder on a near by rock, we play add-on and try to create problems to work out.

Siga No Mas

Thanks to Mike and Leif for taking on the daunting task of blogging about our trek. Good men. And thorough.

And if you haven't quite had enough, here are a few of my highlighs from the trip:

• I was quite proud of my asthmatic lungs for chugging along and getting me up the mountains. I certainly wasn't running up the switchbacks, but I managed to make pretty good time. Altitude? Pshaw!
• In fact, the only time that I did feel the lethargic pull of altitude sickness was on day 4, when we weren't even up that high. I felt tired and nausious and had a 2000 meter climb ahead of me. I spent 4 hours hiking very slowly and stopping every few minutes to dry heave. Not the most fun, but at least the weather wasn´t too hot. The situation was remedied by lots of coca tea and sleep, and the next day I felt great.
• It was really awesome to pass through lots of different microclimates, and every day was diverse. All of the changes in vegetation gave us a great sampling of Peru, even though we only trekked through a relatively small area.
  
• You gotta love hiking and camping with the local farm animals! Pigs, chickens, dogs, cows, mules, etc. are always roaming around, and cows and bulls meander across the trails. On the 6th day I had a showdown with a very large bull with very pointy horns that was in no hurry to move off the narrow trail. The muleteers always throw stones at them, so I tossed a couple in his direction, but that only prompted him to turn to face me directly. The bull gave me a long stare, and I kind of just milled around trying not to provoke it, hoping it would just move on. When it started shaking its head around at me I got a little nervous. Fortunately the muleteers weren´t far behind, so when they came along the bull got hearded off into a field, where he mooed loudly at us as we passed.
  
• Aside from the evident awesomeness of Machu Piccu, one of my favorite parts about our visit there was the people watching. Seeing hoards of tourists of all ages and nationalities get hearded around by tour guides was highly entertaining.
  

Anyway, moving on...

After our whirlwind two weeks in Peru, it was time to head back to Ecuador. The wee village of Vilcabamba provided the perfect respite from the stresses of travel and the drone of big cities. The sleepy little village is quiet, relaxing, and surrounded by gorgeous mountains. Our 5 day stay in the Valley of Longevity (so called because of the high number of centenarians there) was not particularly eventful, which made it wonderful. German-owned Hosteria Izcayluma, 2k out of town, had comfy beds, plenty of hammocks, a variety of leisure activities, and a restaurant that had a panoramic view of the valley and served huge plates of excellent, cheap food. Ohhh, the food! We went straight for the German specialties (just a tad bit tired of rice, veggies, and white bread) and never looked back. Goulash. Stroganoff. Homemade spatzle. Mushroom sauce.

Oh, and we went hiking, too. Between our daily rounds of feasting we did manage to take in the natural splendor of the surrounding mountains. First up was a 4-hour hike along the ridge of Mandango, and oddly-shaped little mountain that rises above the village. After a hearty breakfast we set out into the hot, sunny morning and made our way up some steep switchbacks to the top of the ridge. 360 views of the surrounding valleys and villages, blue sky, blazing sun, soft green hills. We hike right along the ridge on a narrow trail (less than two feet wide in some spots, with fairly steep drops on either side). The little tufts of grass that cover the hills form interesting patterns in the surrounding landscape, which is dotted with cacti and agave. After a couple hours the trail leaves the ridge, passes through a farm with lots of cows, then intermittently dissapears as we follow a little stream. It had been raining alot in the days before we arrived, and parts of the trail are washed-out. An hour of scrambling through rocks and mud, and zig-zagging back and forth across the river. We make it back to the main road sweaty and hungry, and head back to the hosteria to make sandwiches for lunch, lounge in hammocks, play cards, relax, watch an afternoon thunderstorm.

Izcaylums seems to have monopolized on the trail system around Vilcabamba, having marked paths that loop around different parts of the surrounding area. There was a 6-hour hike to a waterfall that sounded appealing, but one of the girls who worked at the hostal told us it wasn´t all that great, but that there was a really cool spot where two rivers convege that we could hike to in about an hour. We could follow one of the marked trails to the spot where it meets up with the waterfall trail, check out the river, then continue on if we wanted. So we set out with map in hand, of through quaint little parts of the village, past houses and farms, over a few landslides (and one spot where the road had completely collapsed), down to one river, across a little footbridge, and into...someone´s yard. We slogged around through the tall, pointy grass that concealed the mud underneath, searching for the trail. No one was inside the house, so we poked around the back only to find a labrynth of banana trees and a fence. A mule brayed at us. We turned back. After some bushwhacking and a little scrambling we find what seems to be the trail, which we follow along until it too dissapears. We check the map again. We see where the trail should lead to, but there´s no way to get there. A steep drop-off and tall grass. After two hours of going nowhere we decide to turn back, feeling a little defeated. No river frolicking for us. Oh well...We head back to town for a burritos and ice cream, then back up the road to the hostal for more relaxation.

For Mike and me, Vilcabamba was our next-to last stop on our three month journey. We knew we wanted to head up to Cuenca for a few days before leaving from Quito, but it was hard to leave such a chill place. We debate about staying for another day, but ultimately decide we should move on. Because there had been so much rain, the roads to Loja and Cuenca had been riddled with landslides. There had been a break in the weather, though, so we waned to take advantage of passable roads while we could. During the 8-hour journey we definitely witnessed some sketchy areas (landslides, huge cracks in the road, chunks of road that were undercut and missing). The trip took and hour longer than it should´ve, but I´m glad we made it.

Now we´re kickin´it Cuenca, which is considered to be Ecuador´s finest city. Lovely colonial buildings, tiled roofs, cool markets and cafes. Sunday night we´ll take an overnight bus to Quito, spend a day in the city, and on Tuesday we´re off! Crazy...

Cuzco and the trek

After the madness of travelling we made it to Cuzco and found a beautiful little hostel up on a hill in the hippie, artsy side of town. Cuzco proved to be the most expensive, exploitative and touristed city that we have visited yet. Since we pretty much came to Cuzco early to acclimatize for our 9 day trek (on which we would be seeing tons of ruins) we decided to skip a lot of the really touristy (and therefore expensive) sights and do some serious relaxing. We visited a museum and an old inca site or two but mostly we played cribbage and rummy and snacked in various cafes all over town. I have never been harassed so much by people trying to sell you shit in my life, plus since we were in gringo world everyone could all of a sudden understand our english...it was kind of like taking a soundproof barrier away from our conversations.

But that was almost two weeks ago now, and since then we have trekked to Machu Picchu, which seems like a much more interesting topic for a blog.

The day before our trek we had a scheduled meeting. At the meeting we are introduced to our guide Felix and the two Australians, Pat and Kate. Felix speaks decent english, but Leif, Kelly and I kind of wish he would just explain in spanish, easier to understand. Felix shows us our route on the topo map and just looking at and talking about the plan makes us all start to get giddy with anticipation. During the meeting Kelly is kind of giving Pat a funny look.
¨Do you know Brendan so-and-so?¨ she asks him?
Turns out yes, he does and Kelly knows him from the semester she spent in Australia. Yet more proof that this world is really not as big as it seems.

Day 1:
The first morning we get picked up early by a minibus where we meet three more members of our crew. The cooks, Alfredo and Tigre are sitting in the back, quiet, mysterious and there is a new gringo in the front. His name is Eric and he is from Montreal, apparently he joined in on our trek the day before, last minute. It´s hard to say exactly what it was but Eric immediately rubbed me the wrong way, and I knew that only after a few hours he would be getting on all of our nerves. We pick up the Australians at their hotel and set off on a four hour drive to the town where we will start our trek from.

We get to the town and meet our muleteer, Zeus, he is all smiles and super friendly. Felix and Zeus escort us to a small shop where the cooks are preparing our first lunch. Felix tells us it will be about 45 minutes and that we should explore the town. He then disappears for a bit (which will become a trend on the trip) and drinks some chicha with his buddies.

So we spend some time wandering around the town, getting to know each other. The Aussies are environmental scientists who work for some big company in Western Australia. Eric is a civil engineer and a bicyclist, hates rain and cold weather. All of them are on much longer trips, travelling for almost a year each. We wander to a plaza and glance off into the snow-capped, cloud-enshrouded peaks that we will be heading into in just a few hours.

When we got back lunch was ready. As most of our meals would turn out to be, we got white rice, veggies and a bit of meat. Fried goodness, french fries. Let me just say that the food was spectacular from a backcountry perspective. As we are wrapping up our lunch Felix tells us the plan and gives us a little cultural story which will become a standard practice for meals. He tells us about Chicha, the fermented corn super drink that has a bit of alcohol as a kicker. He says that people used to put babies hands in it to make it sell fast. Then he tells us that underwear was usually soaking in the bottom of the barrel as well...to make it sell faster.

Okay, it is time to get going, so we introduce ourselves formally to the rest of the crew and they start packing our stuff up on the mules.

The hiking on the first day was not too intense, we hiked up a valley towards the epic range in the near distance. Took a break and then descended very rapidly down to the Apurimac river valley, the hike was about 5 hours total, but our knees were screaming by the time we got to the bottom...too much downhill. On the first day the difference in our hiking speeds became evident. And the trend would hold for the rest of the trip. Eric, listening to radiohead, was practically running down the trail, taking pictures every five minutes. Kelly, Leif and I were steadily hiking in the middle. And Kate and Pat were in the back, Kate had a bit of a bad knee...which unfortunately only got worse as we went along.

We made it down to our campsites...which were definately not what I think of as backcountry camping sites. The first one we passed had fully functioning bathrooms and showers, a caretaker and a room full of guinea pigs (probably for eating). The site we were staying at had a small field with papaya trees, a cornfield, a minibar, and some small huts. When we got there the tents were already set up (the muleteers haul ass to the campsites before all of us), and food was being prepared.

We had a good little stretch session in the field (apparently Kelly, Leif and I are the only ones who know the value of stretching after excercise) and had some dinner which is always preceded by a huge plate of popcorn and some crackers. Pat and Kate bust out some rum and cokes, we have a drink and pass out in our tents.

Day 2:
This is supposed to be the hardest day, Felix says we hike down to the river for about an hour and then pretty much straight up for about five. Kate´s knee is worse. On our descent Leif and Felix converse in spanish about various subjects ranging from basketball to drugs. Take a break at the roaring, I mean huge, river that has standing waves in it, and then head up the switchbacks. Again Eric is practically running up the hill, he seems to think that everything is a race and that he needs to win it. Leif and I are mobbing up too, sweating small streams, with Kelly shortly behind, and the Aussies way down with Felix. Leif and I have in depth conversations about the benefits and drawbacks of Port Townsend for the summer...talk about climbing.

Leif and I get to the spot where we are having lunch about an hour earlier than predicted, Eric is there ready to keep going. Kelly rolls in about 45 minutes after us, and then as we are finishing lunch Felix sits down and tells us where to go to get to our campsite.

This campsite is nestled above some old Incan terraces that are right on the edge of the cliff dropping 1500 meters down to the Apurimac. And right below the saddle that contains the old Incan refuge of Choquequirao. We have good weather and some time until dinner so Leif, Kelly and I decide to take the 45 minute hike up to the ruins. I am glad we did. Barely anyone there, the light just perfect, we can see down valleys in three directions. Spectacular, words cannot describe.

The reason I say I am glad we went to the ruins that night is because at some point while we were sleeping it started pouring and we pretty much had cloudy, slightly rainy days from then until we got to Machu Picchu.

At this campsite we were joined by several other groups camping, all doing it on their own, but only one french guy and a group of Argentinians were actually going on to Machu Picchu, the rest were just doing the four day up and back to Choquequirao. At dinner Felix gives us another little lecture/story.

Day 3:
We get up and have breakfast in the rain but by the time we make the hike up to the ruins it is reduced to a drizzle. Felix gives us a little tour of the premises and all of us are internally groaning from sore muscles, the day before kicked our asses, but today we just head down to another river for only a couple hours of hiking. We see a spot where the Incas tied mummies into the walls and would take them out to parade them around at holidays. There is a party (sacrifice?) field up on the near peak, epic views.

We trek up and over the edge of the ridge and the sun breaks out of the clouds bringing body drying heat into the valley. By the time we made it to the campsite the heat was more than just drying...Leif and I don swimming shorts, no shirt. Now we have the afternoon to relax, play cribbage, read.

Felix gives us a talk about orchids, hundreds and hundreds of orchids. Luckily we are doing this trek in the off season, which means more rain, however it also means wildflowers and less tourists. The valley in the busy season is all brown, dried out, for us it is green, lush, full of butterflies, flowers, birds, and wasps as long as your hand that could easily be mistaken for a small bird.

Day 4:
Clouds greet us for our second river crossing and steep ascent. Today is a similar hike to the second day, down, across a valley and up, up, up. At this point the French guy and the Argentinians are still camping with us, but one of the Argentinians seems to have a very badly injured knee, she can barely walk. And the French guy is carrying all of his gear, seems to be getting tired.

The stratification of the hikers is similar to the previous days. Eric runs off ahead, we are in the middle, and Kate is in the back with Pat, trying to take it easy on her knee. The river is large, and this one doesn't have a bridge, we will have to cross it. This is the Rio Blanco and if it had been raining a lot before our trek this crossing could have been impossible and would have forced us to take a different, not as cool trek. We, along with Alfredo, the cook, try to find a good way to cross, but in the end Leif just goes for it, almost slipping in his big mountaineering boots. Kelly and I take our shoes off and careful of every step, balance our way across.

Leif and I again mob our way up the hill, getting to the campsite just as the cooks and muleteers do. Eric apparently beat them, missed the campsite, went way too far ahead, and so was nowhere in sight. Tired, stretching in the drizzling rain, Leif and I wait for the others. Fog flirts with the ridge above us, tomorrow we will cross our first pass at 4130 meters.

That night Felix breaks out a box of wine at dinner and we celebrate another successful day of climbing. We talk about humming birds, they come in all sizes and we will get to see lots the next day.

Day 5:
Again we wake up to fog. During our ascent to the pass it is drizzling and the trail is pretty much just mud. As we get higher in elevation the cloud forest transitions to more desolate and rocky paramo. When we reach the pass it seems like the fog will burn off but as we descend down the other side it becomes apparent that it won´t. We are hiking just below the ridge on a trail that is cut out of the hill with an endless drop off to our left. I wish we could see, the view would have to be amazing. On our right there are small caves that are entrances to mines built in the early 1900s.

We drop a bit below the clouds and a village appears through the mist. We think we might have missed the turn off to our campsite so we turn around and head up a ways. After a obligitory pointless detour that we seem to always find ourselves taking, we get back on the orignal path and descend down to the village.

The community is perched in a valley above a raging river at the feet of grasping peaks. Stone walls wind through the houses containing sheep, cows, horses. We follow the trail and see Zeus´s brother beckoning to us. We follow him to our campsite which he explains is in the yard of his and Zeus´s house. This is their village. We relax while they head off to the river to catch trout for our dinner.

It is the equinox, we have champagne. It rains still.

Day 6:
Today we have the longest hike of the trip. We are hiking for around 9 hours, but this day is more gradual and we cross a pass at 4800 meters. We follow the river up the valley with small glimpses of glaciers visible through the clouds. We enter a flood plain and another hour up and we are at the pass. This is the first place where I actually felt cold, the wind and rain cut through my jacket and bit at my fingers. We hurried on, as we were rushing down the other side of the pass, I felt my first taste of altitude sickness (I think thats what it was), I felt nauseous and had to slow down.

We made it down from the cold and crossed another small river. Well, actually we just jumped over it. Descended into another valley and crossed another river on slightly sketchy logs piled on the rocks. The ecology changed again, we now saw what appeared to be blue berries everywhere, don´t worry, we didn´t eat them, that would be a stupid way to go. The valley bled into another community and we stopped at someone´s house for lunch. Children played with toy trucks and axes while defensive dogs chased butch roosters.

Another two hours of hiking and we met up with the popular alternative Machu Picchu trek called the Salkantay trail. As we arrived to the community where we would camp there was a league soccer game going on...in the Peruvian Andes. There are three nearby communities (well a couple hours hike each) and they have soccer teams. There is also a small store and we get some beers to celebrate. Felix introduces us to "Macho Tea" which is the local sugar cane liquer mixed with a bunch of fruitiness. This was the longest day and the end of the difficult trail. Now we just join up with the Salkantay trail, which is a piece of cake.

Day 7:
We start out on a five hour pretty much flat hike along the Salkantay river to the small community of La Playa where we will have lunch. Early on it seems like it is going to be a beautiful day, but after a few hours it is raining again on and off. Pretty much right when we get to La Playa it just starts dumping. About half way through this day we started hiking on a road anyways and we decide to take a minibus to a different campsite where we can visit some hotsprings. Of course we almost die on the minibus drive. The woman driving obviously has very little idea how to drive a stick or how to back up. Luckily Alfredo takes the wheel.

At this point we are officially back in civilization and I get stressed out again. We are camping in the yard of a half finished hostal. There is a small monkey jumping around, chirping and messing with our tents. We hang our stuff out to dry and hop in the bus to the hot springs.

The hot springs are amazing, not that hot, but gorgeous. We relax, eat pringles, drink a beer, chat about the last week, it is a good wind down from the hike.

When we get back to the campsite we get more beers and eat popcorn while dinner is being prepared. A huge bus with three Salkantay trek groups get off, loud, we don´t care, we´re louder. They leave anyways and head to the hot springs just as we are finishing dinner and starting a camp fire. We are joined by a guy named Mystic. He wears oversized wool, dreadlocks and a glazed facial expression. He gets a gourd of Chicha and tries to interest us in a San Pedro or Ayahuasca ceremony, hallucinogens that are supposed to connect you with the earth. Mystic is obviously a bit out there...he won´t even admit that these are drugs... We end up sitting around the fire late into the night enjoying each others company.

Day 8:
We spend the morning in a bus getting to the train station that leads up to Aguas Calientes (the small town at the base of Machu Picchu). The train doesn`t leave until the afternoon though, so we hike the two hours to the town. Along the hike it is evident that we are on the "eyebrow" of the jungle. Kelly and I see familiar palms, and other vegetation. Mealy Amazons and Oropendulas fly above us.

Aguas Calientes is similar to Cusco in that there are gingos everywhere and prices are ridiculously high. We have a pizza lunch and check out our riverside hotel. Kelly and I have a huge room with four beds over hanging the insanely large, fast flowing river. We shower after 8 days of not being able to only to put on our same smelly clothes. Coffee, ice cream, cribbage, and dinner. Then off early to bed so we can wake up early to get up to Machu Picchu.

Day 9:
It is 5:20 in the morning and the line of gringos waiting for buses to Machu Picchu is crazy. Probably 13 or 14 bus loads of people get sent up the hill. People are rushing through the gate to get in line for the Wayna Picchu hike (an hour hike up to a peak next to the city with some ruins and a great view). We are lucky we get near the front of the line and the weather finally clears up. Everything falls into place.

It is hard to describe the magnitude of Machu Picchu. Words fail me, it is beautiful. Well except for the thousands of tourists scrambling all over it. Tour guides everywhere. Must have been amazing to discover. Even though it was Machu Picchu it still kind of paled in comparison to the trek that took us there. It felt like a very ingenuine experience...everyone does it, these ruins and Aguas Calientes are not Peru, they are an isolated experience, they could be anywhere in the world.

After getting our fill we make our way back to the town, have some food and get on a train back to Cuzco.

Flight to Lima, night in Lima, flight to Guayaquil, 8 hours in a bus station, 9 hours on an overnight bus.

Now we are in Vilcabamba, livin it up at a cheap resort. Pool, Ping pong, hiking, delicious german food...what more could you ask for?

31 Hours of Insanity

It´s a good thing Riobamba was so relaxing, because the leg our journey that followed was completely ridiculous...

We had initially planned on heading to Cuzco for two weeks (to embark on a 9-day trek) at the end of March. But in Baños we discovered that there were two more people who wanted to join the trek, if it could be moved up a bit. No problem. In Guaranda we discovered that this plan might fall through, so everything was up in the air. Once in Riobamba it seemed like it might be on again, if we could get to Cuzco on the 14th. After much fretting and rearranging of plans, the trek was back on for the 17th. Hoorah! Now we just had to get to Peru.

Option 1. Flying
This was the option we had hoped for all along. Getting to Cuzco requires first going to Lima, which is a long way away from Ecuador. Check a map. A direct bus from Guayaquil takes 24 hours. A 2 hour flight is preferable, hands down. Both guide books and online forums speak of magical cheap, frequent flights from Guayaquil to Lima. We could not find these flights. Online searches were useless. Flights from Guayaguil to Panama City to Lima?! Guayaquil to Santiago to Lima?! Round trip flights for thousands of dollars...Completely insane and unbelievably frustrating.

Option 2. Taking a bus
We did not want to take a bus. 24 hours on a bus sounds horrible. But the bus only costs $60 (one-way). We think about the positives: it would be direct, border crossing procedures would be taken care of, and we could see more of Peru! It wouldn´t be THAT bad, would it? Of course, there´s no way to book the bus online, and the website of the bus company has zero information about schedules or booking or anything. Our Lonely Planet book, as well as interenet forums, say buses leave daily at 2 pm. We decide to bite the bullet and take a bus. Perhaps we´ll fly back if it´s horrible.

Of course, getting to Guayaquil is the first step in this whole process, so Wedesday morning we depart on the 6 am bus. The Most Annoying Radio Program Ever blasts in our ears as the bus bumps along though construction. At one point we stop for about 20 minutes waiting for construction, but we remained in high spirits. We were on our way to Peru! 5 hours later we pulled into the Guayaquil bus terminal, which is really nice, and wander around looking for the Ormeño office. When we get to the office it is closed. Some people nearby direct us to go outside, so we do, and we are told that the bus only leaves at 11:30. It´s 11:45. While wondering what to do, we see the bus that we should be on drive by. It looks nice. We later find out that the bus on Thursday is booked, and that if we want to go on Friday we have to buy tickets now. A Friday bus would put us in Lima on Saturday, where we would probably have to spend the night and get a flight to Cuzco on Sunday. Sunday is too late. Impossible.

A taxi takes us to the airport, where a airline agent tells us he can only sell us expensive tickets, and that we should look online for cheaper deals. We spend time at the overpriced computer hub cursing in frustration until we finally find flights that are still to expensive, but not unbearably expensive. Having seemingly no other options, we buy the tickets out of exasperation. The flight leaves at 5:30. Oh, but wait, now we have to find a way to get to Cuzco! Searching for Cuzco flights is even more ridiculous. These are flights that shouldn´t be more than $75 each way, and we can´t find anything under $200 (one-way). One website has cheap flights, but when Leif goes to book them, it says they´re no longer available. The ticket agent says he can only sell us tickets for $400 round trip. What the hell is going on?!?! Time is running out to get through customs and security, so we give up and decide to try finding tickets in Lima. We go through security, find a little bar, split two beers between the three of us and watch a soccer game.

On a high note, the LAN flight that we took to Lima was the nicest plane I´ve EVER been on. I wish we were flying LAN back to the States...

My excitement over the nice plane ends in Lima, where upon arrival in the airport we immediately begin our search for tickets to Cuzco. A woman at one of the airline desks says she can sell us tickets for $180 round trip. Not horrible. But there are these other business-y looking guys who are checking prices on cell phones saying they can get us cheaper tickets. "Go ask," they say, "but we can get you cheaper tickets." They offer $140 round trip. They also seem a little shady. And they say we have to come to their office, which is 5 minutes away on foot. We spend some time discussing what to do--cheap tickets would be nice, but getting ripped off in some kind of shady scheme does not sound nice. The woman at the desk says those guys are there all the time. We hesitantly agree to go with them.

After 5 uneasy minutes of walking with all of our stuff through the dark, crowded streets of Lima, over a highway overpass and through a parking lot, we come to what does indeed appear to be a travel agency. It COULD be an elaborate hoax, but it looks an awful lot like a travel agency. We talk to a different man behind a desk, who is very nice, and tells us the cheapest tickets he can find for us are $171 round trip. $9 of savings. The flight leaves at 5:30 in the morning, which we prefer, so we book the tickets and feel even more uneasy as we hand over all of the cash that we have (credit cards are not accepted). The first guys escorts us back to the airport, and we immediately head to the counter to check in. Turns out the tickets are legit.

Rather than paying for a taxi to take us to a hostal, where we´ll sleep for 4 hours before hiring another taxi to take us back, we decide to spend the night in the airport. By the time we checked in it was 8ish, so we didn´t have THAT long to wait...we found some less-than-delicious food court fare and played cards for a while. Around midnight we cleared security and were delighted to find a quiet gate with seats without armrests. Not a bad spot to get a couple hours of sleep...

At 4:45 we board our flight. At 5:30 they said the flight was delayed. At 6:10 the flight was cancelled. We got of the plane. We got our luggage. We sat in the shapeless mass of people was supposed to be forming a line. For what? Nobody knew. Some amount of time later a girl told Mike we were waiting for new boarding passes for a 9:20 flight. If we didn´t get passes for that flight, we had to get in another line to get passes for a 9:25 flight. When an airline agent finally comes to the desk, everyone mobs forward, yelling. There is no order. The whole situation is stupid.

We, of course, do not get passes for the 9:20 flight, so we make our way back up to the check-in area to get in the new line. This new line that we get in is really just a line of the same people that were crowded down in the other "line". The people who have boarding passes need to check in their luggage. The people without passes (us) need to GET passes. The line is insanely long, and as we wait everyone just cuts up to the front, anyway. We are disgusted. The time approaches 9:00 and we are still in line. By the time we get to the ticket counter, we are last in line. Everyone else has been issued passes for the 9:20ish flights. We get tickets for 11:50. Whatever. At least now we can go find some coffee.

Miraculously, our flight from Lima leaves on time, and an hour later we land safely in Cuzco. We hire a ridiculously expensive taxi, which takes us to the hotel we´ve decided on. The book lists it a budget choice, but when we arrive we´re told that rooms cost $40 each. No way. In a sleepy daze, we wander the narrow, cobblestone streets of the San Blas neighborhood, and stumble into a hostal that fits our budget. We find food. We return to the hostal at 3:30 in the afternoon and pass out. We sleep for 17 hours.

Lazy Riobamba

The last time we (Mike) updated the blog, we were in the city of Guaranda, the capital of Bolivar Province. Turns out there´s not a whole lot to do in Guaranda, although we did procure some of the famous cheese and chocolate from nearby Salinas, which we unfortunately didn´t get a chance to visit. The chocolate was spectacular. The cheese was a little dissapointing. After spedning a ridiculous amount of time trying to find food to eat for breakfast on Sunday morning, we were fed up with Guaranda and headed out of town on the 2 hour bus to Riobamba.

The road from Guaranda rose steadily out of the green patchwork valleys and hills that the town is in nestled in, up into the shrubby Ecuadorian páramo, which looks an awful lot like parts of New Mexico. The highway skirted around Volcán Chimborazo, Ecuador´s highest peak and the furthest point from the center of the earth (due to the earth´s equatorial buldge). The mountain looked stunning, surrounded by the eerie páramo where we could see wild vicuñas (relateives of llamas) roaming around. Mike and I had been considering hiking to the climbing refuge at Chimborazo, but after considering the area we´d be hiking in (which was beautiful in a shrubby desert sort of way, but not particularly interesting) and the costs involved, we decided against it.

Upon our arrival in Riobamba, we took a taxi to the lovely Hostal Oasis, and then immediately set out to find lunch. Lonely Planet´s summary of Riobamba on a Sunday proved to be accurate:
"Riobamba is an important commercial center for the central highlands. Except on Sundays, when it seems you could easily starve searching for someplace to buy food..." The city was deserted. The wide, paved streets were populated by blowing sand and garbage, and the doors and windows on the grand, old buildings were boarded up. We wandered. We found Chinese food. We were happy. The evening was spent playing cards, talking to other travelers (more American´s than we´ve met, like, the whole trip), making chili, and being awed by novelty of television in English (CNN! Dangerous...).

Monday transformed the city completely, and we spent the morning dodging huge crowds of people and traffic as we wondered about. Much time was spent online, blogging, uploading photos, and fretting about travel plans. Generally speaking, our time in Riobamba was not partucularly exciting. We walked around a fair amout, bought and made food, played cards, hung around the lovely courtyard at the hostel, and watched football. Sometimes you need a vacation from being on vacation.

Chugchilan (I´m surprised we made it alive)

As we waited on the bus to Chugchilan, moods already low because Leif had been robbed that morning, the ecuadorian highlanders filling up the seats, we wondered what the four hour ride had in store. The bus was rickety and our shit was tied to the top. Leif got kicked out of his seat and we spent quite some time trying to get a somber, silent, indiginous mother to let him have the seat he was assigned. As we ascended into the mountains towards the famous Quilotoa loop, we all tried to avoid nodding off...to avoid more robbery. The view was probably fantastic, but we could barely see the side of the road because of a thick fog, we passed the town of Quilotoa and started our descent to Chugchilan. This is how lonely planet describes the bus ride:

"After the turnoff to Laguna Quilotoa, the road turns to dirt, and the bumping begins. The road zigs and zags through 22km of breathtaking Andean scenery..."

But really it should say:

"After the turnoff to Laguna Quilatoa, the road turns to washed-out dried mud, with huge tire-engulfing ditches. Your overloaded, top-heavy bus will tip to near 45 degree angles and the back tires may stray halfway off the under cut edge of the road. Below you the road will give way to a fog soaked drop off, and it will zig and zig through 22km of lifetaking Andean scenery..."

Thats all I think I need to say about that, I'm glad we didn´t plummet to our deaths.

However we had a very refreshing ending to the evening, we found the Hostal Cloud Forest, which for 8 dollars a night including breakfast and dinner, with an honor system bar and dollar hamburgers all day, was one of the coolest hostals we´ve found yet.

There is tons of hiking to do around Chugchilan, so the first day we ventured up a road towards a ridge and a viewpoint. Along the path we were constantly watched and yelled at by sheep and pigs (I wanted to steal the babies, they were picturesquely cute). We made it up to a highpoint and in the midst of goats and cows we had a great 360 view. In the west was a sea of fog and it was evident that there was a lack of mountains, we were on the edge of the Andes. To the east was a spectacular sprawl of patchwork green rolling hills, valleys, canyons, houses with epic clouds moving west. We continued down to a small town and at around 11 AM the fog rolled in and our view was erased. We wandered around while children on a recess break shot holas at us. I tried to match holas but was no match for their numbers. We ate some tuna and white bread (no mayo to be found in Chugchilan) and proceded to get somewhat lost. We took a trail that thought would lead back to the hostal but we just ended up in mud on someone else´s property. When we made it out a man showed us where to go (even though we knew, it was the same trail we came in on) and told us that he was homeless and needed a house. Once out we bade him farewell and good luck and headed back to the hostal.

The hostal provided dinner, which all of the travellers ate together, so there was a mish mash of spanish, french, english and german as we chowed down our pizza. After dinner (and before, well actually anytime there was free time) we played cribbage, we played with a french canadian, a straight up frenchie and a german girl and our games were communicated in four languages.

The next day we took a camioneta up to the Laguna Quilotoa and hiked around the ridge of the volcanic lake, but not before taking the wrong trail again...we seem to always take half hour to hour detours unexpectedly. The lake was beautiful but not much in comparison to the Laguna Cuicocha that we hiked around near Otavalo. This lake is much smaller and doesn´t have islands in the middle. We made it around the lake with a stop for more tuna and white bread and started down a trail that would lead us through valleys, across a canyon and up back to our town. I think this was my favorite hike that we have taken yet. We had amazing weather, the fog held off till we got back and the views were something else. Plus we found mayonese in a tiny tienda along the way! Mayo makes everything that much better. AND we didn´t even get lost on the way back.

That night we bought a bottle of whisky and played some more crib. Although after a couple drinks I was dead tired and slept hard. The next day Kelly and I woke up for breakfast and relaxed waiting for Leif to join us. After a couple hours though, I was curious...did Leif leave in the middle of the night? What happened, usually he is up bright and early excited, yelling, threatening me, and taking fake jabs at my midsection. No, he didn´t leave, but he did get some kind of bug, so we took the day off and rested our muscles in the sun, and played cards like all day.

Which brings us to today. We woke up at 2:15 this morning to catch the only bus...a 3 AM bus, que tonto, and after about 9 hours of travel we made it to Guaranda a city in a province that has the best chocolate and cheese, Ween would love it. Our next few weeks are up in the air though as we figure out when we are going to Peru for the trek. We do know that tomorrow we will head to a town called Riobamba, and maybe go to the volcano Chimborazo.

Killing Time in Baños

Oh my goodness, it´s March! Time is flying by...

Mike and I needed to find something to do for 6 days before reuniting with Leif for continued adventures. We had been thinking about camping for a night in Cotopaxi national park and then heading off someplace else, but further research suggested that this might be a rather expensive and logistically difficult option. Cotopaxi is not super easy to get to, and options for lodging near the park aren´t ideal. So we decided to head to Baños for 5 nights. We´re discovering that we greatly prefer to stay in one place for 4-5 days (even if it means running out of things to do), rather than having to constantly be dealing with buses. I do not enjoy traveling in buses for several reasons, the biggest of which might be having to remain dehydrated all day so as not to have to pee. Guys can ask the bus to stop and just hop off on the side of the road, but there´s rarely a convenient place for a lady to relieve herself on the side of the road. On the main roads there are few bushes and lots of traffic. I could go on quite a long rant about buses, but that´s not really the point here. Anyway...

Baños is about 3.5 hours south of Quito. A tiny town tucked in a valley, surrounded by gorgeous mountains. While we were still about an hour and half away, Mike and I looked out the window of the bus and happened to notice a huge mushroom cloud of smoke and ash billowing above a large peak in the distance.
"Is that a volcano?"
"Um...I think so...I´ve never seen a volcano."
"I´m pretty sure that´s a volcano erupting."
"Huh."
No one else seems to be interested in the erupting volcano, which suggested to us that this is old news. "Oh, yeah, that whole smoke and ash thing...bo-ring..." This is, of course, Volcán Tungurahua, the slopes of which Baños is nestled into. It is also what provides the hot thermal springs that feed the baths that the town is named for. We visited the main municipal baths on Saturday and they were nice but crowded with weekending Ecuadorians. A couple of Aussies staying at our hostal said that they tried to go even later in the afternoon and there was no possible way to even get in the water, the crowd was so big. Mike and I went back to the baths early this morning (Monday), where there were no crowds and the water was lovely (although the hot bath was almost unbearable).

Since we were going to be staying put for a while, we decided it would be beneficial to take a few Spanish lessons. We´ve been getting by alright, and I think we have a pretty good command of the present tense, but it´s always good to learn more, and here we definitely had the time. We found Mayra´s Spanish School, a couple blocks away from where we´re staying, and signed up for 4 two-hour classes. 8 hours of lessons doesn´t seem like a whole lot, but it´s been super helpful. We got to take lessons with Mayra herself, who is very nice, and she gave us lots of good materials to study. It´s really nice to practice speaking with someone who will correct you and explain why you were wrong. Otherwise, it´s hard to know if what we´re saying to people is actually correct, of if they´re just politely picking apart the meaning of our mangled phrases. We´ve had lessons in the afternoons from 2-4, which gives us plenty of times for morning activities.

On Friday we set out early for a hike into the mountains that surround the town. The trail began just a couple blocks down the road from our hostal and climbed steeply up to a lookout over the town, and further up past the small village of Runtun to a lookout with a direct view of Volcán Tungurahua. The clouds still hadn´t burned off by that time in the morning, but even though we couldn´t see the peak of the volcano (which still spews smoke and ash but hasn´t been on the verge of a major erruption for a few years) it was still a beautiful of the surrounding mountains and valley. We then headed straight down the steep ridge (Mike called this part of the trail a ¨foot luge¨) back toward town, passing the giant statue of a seated Virgin Mary that watches over the valley.

No classes for us on Sunday, so another early morning found us renting bikes for the day and heading east out of town toward Puyo. The road is referred to as the ¨Highway of the Waterfalls,¨and aptly so, because there are waterfalls around every corner. Going toward Puyo is mostly downhill, but the lack of pedaling was made up for by a significant amount of hiking. We stopped a few times to hike down into the valley for better views, then back up to the road. At one point we spend about an hour hiking to a waterfall that our almost completely useless map made look much closer than it was. We finally gave up in favor of moving on to another spot, but it was a nice hike nonetheless. The most touristed (by Ecuadorians) waterfall was El Pailón del Diablo, an impressively large waterfall that was viewable by footbridge after passing through a gauntlent of vendors and restaurants on the hike down. On our way to the waterfall a group of young Ecuadorians beckoned us to come take a picture with them.
¨¿Porque somos gringos?¨
¨¡Sí!¨
¨...No...¨
This is not the first time we´ve been solicited for photos because we´re gringos...it´s somewhat of an interesting phenomenon.

After stopping along the road for lunch we decided to head back to Baños for the afternoon, so we hailed a passing ranchero and enjoyed the ride back. In the morning we hadn´t seen many other cyclists, but we passed a lot of them on our way back. Hooray for getting an early start. The rest of the day was spent relaxing in town. People watching on the weekend has been interesting. Baños seemed fairly deserted after the madness of Carnaval, but the weekend brought throngs of people into town. Foreigners aren´t the only tourist here!

Today is our last day in Baños, and tomorrow we´ll head up to Latacunga to meet Leif. Then we´ll all spend a couple days exploring the Laguna Quilotoa loop. I foresee lots of hiking in our future, and we definitely need it to get in shape for the challenging Choquequirao hike that awaits us in Peru!

Carnival in Otavalo

Carnival in Otavalo was crazy, loco, nuspa, and very fun. We spent five nights there and after reading Leif´s recounting of the events, I don´t feel as though I need to elaborate on what he wrote very much. He did an amazing job of bringing to life the events of the time spent there. Read it here. And once you´ve read that, come back and read the rest here. And since in about three more days we will be reuniting with Leif for the rest of our trip, you might as well bookmark his blog, cause events will be shared and he is an amazing writer.

The last day of Carnival.
Kelly and I spend the morning putzing around the amazing indiginous market, trying on sweaters, pants, rings, all at bargainable, low prices. Every restaurant is closed for lunch, because everyone is fiestaing. As we stroll the streets, the memory of our adventure the day before to the waterfall fresh in our minds, we keep a constant eye out for attackers. They strike from every direction with water balloons, buckets of water, flower, dye. We look at rooftops, store fronts, our feet where mini attackers threaten with water balloons, even though half the time they drop them on their own feet. We buy some bread, mayo and tuna at a tienda and head back stealthily to the hotel. As our floured, dyed, and wet clothes hang from the day before we prepare lunch and sit back and read for a bit.

The afternoon rolls in and Leif has finished classes and brought his homestay brother with him to the hotel. Knowing it is the last day of festivities, I have smartly changed back into my battle uniform and as I return from the bathroom Leif and Jorge are ready with water balloons...
¨No, no, no¨ I say and back away with my hands up, palms out, ready to deflect.
They smile and fake, not yet, they head to fill up more water balloons. I use this time to my advantage and grab the spray foam can left over from the day before.
I give them a friendly spatter of foam, all in good fun.
Leif hucks a balloon at my back when I let my guard down...it´s on.
I fill his face with foam, and Jorge threatens both of us. Okay, okay time to head to Jorge´s house where a war is being waged in the streets.
On the way Jorge pops a balloon on my back...can´t trust anyone.
When we get to the street a mob of tiny ecuadorian kids rush at us with buckets of water, spilling more on themselves than is left over in the bucket.
Jorge just barely gets the door open in time and we take our posts up above, where we pelt water balloons at them till we run out and have to resort to using buckets down on the street like them. By the time we are all completely soaked Jorge´s dad rolls up in a truck and we all pile in with a huge garbage can of water. We´re off.
We spend the next hour (maybe two?) completely soaked, crouched in the back of an uncomfortable truck. We throw water at teams set up on every corner and roof top. Our forces are no match, they have hoses, unlimited resources, and they can run. Water balloons are pelted at us from every direction...and they kinda hurt. More than half the time we are riding in the truck we don´t even have water left, so pretty much we are just there to get crap thrown at us. Freezing, crouched, unarmed, and smiling the biggest smile, Leif, Jorge and I keep glancing at each other and spouting our motto...¨Que tonto!¨ How stupid!

Quito

Ecuador has such a large diversity for such a small country. It seems to have almost every type of ecosystem and just as many types of people. Everywhere you go the communities are different, the customs, culture and landscape changes. Quito seems to be a microcosm of this trend. We stayed for four days in a beautiful hostal in between the new and the old town. Casa Bambu had a kitchen we could cook in, tall, cold, one dollar beers, internet and an amazing rooftop terrace all for just five bucks a night. It was from here that we discovered the diversity of Quito. During the day we would explore the different sides of the town and at night observe it from high on our rooftop terrace. Playing cribbage, eating, drinking a beer, we watched each night as the sky grew dim and the lights of the city sprinkled on with the pervasive drone of car alarms as our soundtrack. Quito is surrounded by mountains, huge, volcanic mountains, and the buildings seem to reach up on all sides of the valley like fingertips grasping at the night sky.

The first thing we noticed about Quito, having recently come from the poorer north coast is how available everything is. We had to run errands in the new town, the Mariscal district, and this part of town could be in any city in the world. Everything you need is just around the next corner. Outdoor stores, climbing walls, supermarkets, coffee joints, bookstores, pharmacies, etc... We tried to only come here for the ATM or to run errands.

The old town is a web of tiny streets spattered with beautiful old churches and monastaries and millions of tiny stores and restaurants. There seemed to be pockets of stores that all sold the same thing. You walk down one street and find twelve stores selling soccer jerseys and balls. The next street brings tons of cell phones and places to buy jewelry or exchange gold. There is a beautiful plaza in the old town where the president´s building is situated and it is common to have a mob of protesters with signs in front of it.

We spent a day and a half exploring the old town. And we learned a good lesson in the first church we visited. We hesitantly walked into the church, looking for a place to pay the two dollars we knew we needed to give them to explore the amazing views of the clock towers. Instead of finding a ticket window we are approached by a well dressed ecuadorian.
"Hablan Espanol?" He asks.
"Un poco" we respond, as we usually do when asked this.
So he immediately starts speaking english. He says he is the priest and he starts showing us around pointing at things and stating the obvious.
"This is a baby Mary. Take a picture, take a picture."
"This is a flag, this is a picture of the pope, this is a pole. Take a picture, take a picture."
Uhm. Okay. We get done with our two minute "tour", he hands us two tiny pictures of Jesus and puts his hand out. I'm not too comfortable with this, but what am I gonna do? I give him a buck. He asks for one more. I give it to him...I'm not good with confrontation. So we step out the back, feeling a bit ripped off, and see the ticket office. Mierda! We walk up to the ticket office, yep here is where you pay two bucks. I explain in broken spanish that there is a guy hustling tourists and that he got two dollars from us. I was just telling the woman so that she would know for the future, but she starts marching off towards the church beckoning for us to follow. Uh oh, like I said I don´t like confrontation. When we get inside we see him showing the church to a much larger group, and the woman strides over to the man and says many things in very rapid spanish. We are just standing on the side, I feel bad, but we did just get swindled. She forces him to give us our money back and then kicks him out. At least we got un ripped off in the end. And it was worth it to pay the real two bucks to climb up for an epic view of the city.

We also explored one of the most ornate churches in Ecuador with tons of gold all over it. We weren´t the only ones checking out this church though, there were a bunch of other tourists, including some sort of group of beauty pagent contestants completely decked out in short dresses, with flowers and all. They were being guided by some lady from the ecuadorian military. Strange for a catholic church, no?

In the old town we also visited an amazing photography exhibit, ate in a great restaurant, and chilled in the plazas people watching. More north of the new town we found the ecuadorian artist, Guayasamin's house and museum, as well as the church/museum he made. Amazing art, amazing collection of precolonial artifacts and great archetecture all situated, yep, on a huge hill with another amazing view of the Quito valley.

Oriente Wrap-Up

Monday morning we set out in the canoe right after breakfast to head up the river back to Coca. During the canoe ride we contemplated our stay, all the cool stuff we saw, and decided that it was definitely worth it.

We had been a little (a lot) skeptical about going to a lodge. For one thing, it´s expensive (over 4 times the daily amount that we´ve been spending in Quito the last few days). And after a month of taking on the challenges of travel head on, on our own, we felt weird and kind of sheepish having everything arranged for us. I feel like our time spent volunteering in a tiny village in the most non-touristed part of Ecuador had made hardier travelers out of us, and we did not want to be unneccesarily pampered. We want to do things ourselves. We are not weak!

That being said, I´m super glad we went to a jungle lodge, and that our consciously spent dollars went to a great community. We saw WAY more stuff than we ever could have seen on our own, with the help of our extremely knowledgable and enthusiastic guides. The reserve was remote enough to be packed with life (Sani is the farthest lodge on that part of the Napo), as opposed to day trips out of Coca, which I hear can be quite a bust. The ammenities weren´t over the top: the bar and dining hall were basic, open-air buildings with thatched roofs and solar power, and we ate by candlelight when necessary. The food was a little gringo oriented, but it was simple and the portions were fair. We didn´t want to be in the jungle eating lobster and all-you-can-eat dessert buffets, and we weren´t.

Jeremy was awesome (we even discovered on the last morning that he has connections to Port Townsend--what a small, small world), and he picked activities that meshed well with our interests, so we got to go on longer, more strenuous hikes with the other younger guests. Even if we hadn´t seen an unprecedented amount of monkeys, we still would´ve had an awesome time.

All in all, it was a great experience. The Sani Isla community seems to be getting ecotourism ¨right¨and I was really happy to support them in their efforts. After all, this is what we´ve been saving money for...

Continued Jungle Awesomeness

Sunday morning brought another 4:45 wake-up call, which was made a little more difficult by the sleepy sound of falling rain. We paddled across Laguna Challuacocha for our candle-lit breakfast in the lodge, then headed out for another morning of exploration. The weather was still a little rainy, but getting a wet doesn’t make much of a difference when you´re drenched in sweat, anyway. First stop was the 30 meter-high canopy observation tower, which was built around a giant kapok tree. It was really amazing to experience the forest from the canopy level, looking across a sea of green and feeling the energy of the morning rainforest. It´s truly spectacular to realize just how much life is surrounding us. I got of few pictures (my crappy little camera doesn’t even come close to capturing how beautiful it all is), but then of course my batteries died and I didn’t get a chance to replace them for the rest of day...We pass around binoculars and check out lots of different birds (lots of parrots, macaws, oropendulas, and others that I can’t remember). Sergio, our native guide for the day, brings along a telescope and we use it to watch many-banded araçaris, which are like mini-toucans. They´re super cute and brightly colored with yellow stripes on their chests--definitely some of my favorites from the trip. While looking at the araçaris, Mike spots even MORE black mantled tamarins chillin’ in a tree. We watch them frolick around with their cute little ¨milk mustaches,¨ and Jeremy is stoked because he´s never seen monkeys from the observation tower.

After spending about an hour and a half up in the canopy, we head off for a hike. Today´s hike is more focused on plants and ethnobotany. Jeremy and Sergio point out all kinds of cool plants: (very) phallic-looking palm roots that are used as aphrodisiacs, brisly “monkey palm” hairbrushes, spikey roots that can be used as graters, etc. We learn about which trees are best for lumber, which are best for dugout canoes, and which types of fibers are most useful for various needs. My favorite highlight was the tree that produces “dragon’s blood,” an aptly-named blood-red liquid that has antiseptic properties and can be used to seal and dry wounds (you don’t want cuts festering in the damp forest). We also find a few things to taste, including a plant that tastes exactly like garlic but isn’t related in any way, and tiny lemon ants, which we sprinkle into our palms from the tree branches that they live in. And yes, they really do taste like lemon!

We wrap up the hike and head back to the lodge for lunch, where we discover that some kids (they´re on vacation from school so there are a few helping out at the lodge) found a boa nearby. The snake (a red-tailed boa) is coiled up in a rice bag behind the bar, and Jeremy gently lifts it out to get a good look. The snake is huge and beautiful and we can definitely tell how powerful it is at begins to constrict around Jeremy´s arm. It´s a pretty special find, and we´re told by a few different staff members that we´re really lucky to see it. Jeremy returns the snake to its bag and it sits behind the bar for the rest of the afternoon, until being released later in the evening.
After lunch most of the guests and staff members pile into 2 canoes, and set off to visit the Sani Isla community. On the way a guy up in a tree is harvesting ice cream bean, and he throws some down to the canoe for us to try. The look like huge pea pods, and we eat the white, cottony looking fruit inside. It´s surprisingly juicy and mildly sweet. The community center is about a 30 minute canoe ride up river, and that day there had been a meeting so the place was really bustling. The community seems to be really well organized and democratic. The lodge is the main source of income, and the money seems to be used very transparently for community development. Currently, an internet center is in the works as well as a building for cacao processing. Jeremy and Sergio give us a little tour of the school, the medical center, meeting center, football field, etc. Then we hop back in the canoe and head a little farther upriver because Sergio has invited us to visit his father´s house. The house is simple but welcoming--made of palm with a thatched roof. We sit in the cool(er) living room, which is bare save for a couple benches along the wall and a table in the corner. A woman brings us a bowl of chicha (fermented yuca...everyone carries around buckets of chicha. It´s all-purpose: hydration and calories, plus a little alcohol kick), an offering of hospitality, and we all pass it around as Sergio´s little sisters peek around the corner at us. Sergio is really proud of the house because it´s built traditionally, with all natural materials (except for the twine on the thatching). He takes us to see the house he is building, too, and then we head back to pick up the other folks at the community center.

We spend the evening before dinner driking refreshing cold beers at the bar and looking out at the gorgeous views of the forest and lagoon. More many-banded ariçaris fly right up to the tree closest to the window, and we get a great look at them. Dinner is a traditional meal of fish steamed in banana leaves, boiled yuca, and plantains. After dinner we embark on another night hike. Sergio wants to look for a giant anteater that´s been seen around, but the hike is a bit of a bust. We see plenty of cool insects and spiders, but nothing very different from the first night. Upon returning to the cabin area, Jeremy spots an awesome tree frog with HUGE eyes hanging out on a porch, and we all get a good look before it hops away. A nice high note to end the hike on...Little did we know that even more awesomeness awaited us.

After the hike, Jeremy, Mike and I head over to the campsite across the lagoon. Mike and I hop out of the boat, but Jeremy starts freaking out and tells us to hurry up and come look. We walk back to the stern of the boat and shine our lights into the marsh. A small red and black snake (I think we found out it was a cat eye snake) is coiled around a tree and restricting a mouse that looks WAY too big for it to eat. The snake´s head is like, the size of my pinky, and this is a very healthy jungle mouse. We all stand in the boat, leaning into the trees, watching the snake be a total badass. It waits to make sure the mouse is dead, and then goes to town working its jaw and maneuvering around to get started on the mouse´s head, all the while keeping itself wrapped around the tree. After a few minutes the mouse looks like it´s being consumed by a tube sock. The snakes mouth and throat are so expanded, we can see the lines of skin between its scales and its muscles are working like crazy to get it down. We can´t believe we´re watching this. Jeremy is beside himself. It´s one thing to watch a snake in captivity eat something that´s been fed to it, but to just happen to stuble upon the process in wild, and watch it from beginning to end, is just nuts. In 10 minutes the snake slurps down the tail, and retreats into the darkness with a mouse-shaped buldge in its belly. So fucking awesome.
Then we go to bed.

Day two in the jungle

Ok, I will try to describe the awesomeness of day two in the jungle without rambling forever. And as you can see, we added some pictures, we have a few more to add but Kelly's camera ran out of batteries halfway through the trip. The two kiwis we were with have a blog too and will probably post much better pictures on their blog.

Jeremy says before we go to bed friday night that the best wildlife viewing is in the early morning. So we should be at breakfast at 5:30. It is suprisingly easy to wake up at 4:45 in the jungle, what with the excitement and the loud bugs and birds. There is actually a bug, called the alarm clock bug, that sounds exactly like an alarm clock...however you cannot set it, it goes off unexpectedly. So, we eat our breakfast and set off in the canoe as the sun rises, our plan is to do the longest trail that they have on the Sani property (about a 5 hour hike), with the hopes of seeing some mammals. The canoe ride is about an hour on top and as we drift through the lagoon, being paddled by Jeremy and Orlando, we take note of birds (most of which we saw the day before). On our left are loud noises, we look eagerly and see a troop of red howler monkeys in the near distance. We haven´t even started our hike and already we´re seeing monkeys. A good sign.

We get to the trail and I head up it a bit to take a piss. I see the backside of some tailed, black, furry animal. But all the monkeys here are arboreal. Must have been an otter or something of that type. Rad. As we start off on the trail, we are all teeming with excitement and anticipation. I am thinking of the wildlife hikes I led in Rhode Island where I am pumped if we see a deer, or a fox track. We are noting the little bugs, and birds along the way when Orlando stops in the front and waves us up to him. Jeremy whispers something to him and then looks at us and whispers "squirrell monkeys!". This is going to be a repeated trend for our hike. Orlando often stops and we all wait quietly while he interprets the background sounds of the forest. "Squirrell monkeys." Sho´ nuff a whole troop of squirrell monkeys crash over our heads. Probably ten or more, some with babies on their backs. They leap from trees and fall only to grab a branch and bounce through the next tree. We follow underneath the monkeys for awhile and eventually we part ways.

We continue on our hike. Orlando points to the ground and Jeremy gets excited. "Jaguar footprints." As we keep walking we are noticing that we are following the Jaguar, we even cross on a log across a little stream that has wet footprints, meaning it can't be that far ahead of us. Jeremy has never seen one though, they are pretty elusive.

Orlando stops and points off the trail to the right. We hear large crashes off in the distance, wooly monkeys, the largest that they have in the area. Orlando starts off the trail, making his own way with his machete. We get a ways in and it seems they got away. Back to the trail. We tramp through an army ant "campaign", an uncountable about of small red ants are swarming the trail for about 5, 6 meters and we run through it so that none of the soldier ants can get up our boots and stick their huge pinchers into us.

Above us and in front we see another troop of monkeys, Black Mantled Tamarins. They circle around us while Orlando mimics their call with a lip pursed squeek. They are called milk drinkers because they have a white section just above their lips that looks like a milk moustache. Super cute.

We stroll on for a bit until we hear wooly monkeys off in the distance again. Again we tromp off trail for awhile in pursuit. This time we find them, they are large, about the size of a ten year old human. Jumping and crashing through the tree tops they notice us. Some of them stop and look down at us, curious I suppose. A couple must feel threatened because they are waving branches around and trying to assert their dominance over us. We watch for awhile and head back to the trail.

We are still following the Jaguar. We also see tracks from tapirs and some kind of boar. Signs of an anteater.

We get to a spot and stop, it seems that there are noisy night monkeys in this tree. We look up with binoculars to see a pair of small, undeniably adorable, big-eyed, furry monkeys staring back at us. That's right, now we've seen five types of the eight wild monkeys that live in this region. We see some more random monkeys but Jeremy really wants to see the howlers again, only close up. And of course next we hear a troop of them drinking water off to the right, they definately hear us first and shoot up into the treetops. Two large males pass over us. Looking directly at us, one of them stops and grabs his nuts and shakes them around, again to express dominance. "I am a male, I am big" he says.

I am sure I am leaving things out. But those were the highlights. I think we got to see around 8 or 9 different troops of monkeys. Much more than usual, Jeremy says.

That night we went Caiman hunting. We floated around in the canoe and tried to get the reflections of their eyes with our flashlights. We saw one little one and one huge one. Then called it a night.

The first day in the jungle

We just got back from our four day stay in the Amazon. It seems like a lot longer than four days, each day was so packed, so I am going to start by just writing about the first day. Hopefully the other three will follow soon.

We went to a community-owned jungle lodge called Sani Lodge. We felt a bit weird because for the last month we have been living in less fortunate areas, not knowing much of what was going on and constantly having transportation misadventures. But now this lodge organized everything for us and had a person waiting at the airport in Quito and in Coca. We met the others that would be staying at the lodge with us. Jared and Rachel, two kiwis about our age who were living in Houston, Rich, an avid fisherman from Maryland, and a couple from Chili. A very small crew, we had the lodge and the staff to ourselves.

When we got off the plane in Coca Jeremy, our guide for the duration, who has lived all over the place, has citizenship in three countries and most recently came from Portland, greeted us in English. He led us on a bus and then to a huge motor-driven canoe where we were joined by a few locals catching a ride up the Rio Napo to their houses. It was a three hour canoe ride with the sun hot and welcomed and the spray from the river crisp and refreshing. Along the way Jeremy pointed out birds, Greater Egret, something Kingfisher. Small dwellings could be seen through the thin layer of foliage on the banks of the ridiculously wide and powerful river. We passed the Sani community center, dropped some people off and made our way to the lodge storage facility where we transfered into a smaller canoe. We then made our way up a smaller river, a much different environment. Shaded by the canopy, the small tributary wound in sharp coils and errant branches drifted past our heads. I looked around to see if Ice Cube was nearby battling an anaconda.

We made it to the lodge. Breathtaking. Amazing naturally built structures right on the edge of a tranquil lagoon. We step inside for an orientation and then Jeremy paddles us to where we will be camping (everyone else was staying in cabins). The tent is set up with sheets, towels and mini soaps and is located on a large platform right on the water's edge. Ideal. Jeremy camps out here too and he comes over and suggests that we spend the afternoon until dinner taking a relaxing canoe paddle to examine the evening bird activity.

So many birds...in this one area of land over 550 species have been found. I'm not even going to try to write them all in here, however I wrote them all in my journal, Jeremy says that is the first sign of a birder...uh oh, next thing you know I'll be up at 3 sitting motionless in the forest, staring at a trail of ants for hours waiting for an antbird to show up. Mealy Amazons (A type of monogamous parrot) fly over us in pairs. Oropendulas fly in flocks to their amazing hanging nests. Frogs and birds all around us create a cocophany of sound and it is all backed up by the deep, screaming drone of howler monkeys in the distance. They sound ominous. Now instead of Ice Cube, I am looking for Jack and Lock to come bursting out of the forest being chased by the smoke monster. As the sun sets we float back to the dock being chided by prehistoric looking hoatzins (stinky turkeys). We sit down to a candle lit dinner which is obviously geared toward a gringo taste.

After dinner Jeremy suggests a night hike. Night hikes in the Amazon are a bit different from night hikes in Rhode Island or Orcas. First of all it is actually dark early enough. Secondly, you actually see stuff...lots of stuff...scary, nightmarish stuff...cute, slightly cuddly stuff. As we set off I get excited about a three inch long, black and yellow millipede. However by the end of the hike we probably saw 50 of them. They look like they are out of a Pixar animated movie, little antennae bobbing and weaving in front of their heads. As we stroll along there are multitudes of different Katydids, Grasshoppers, and stick bugs on the leaves, all trying to blend in, in their own unique way. All trying to not get eaten. We see spiders, and I'm not talking about the biggest scariest spider you've ever seen in the states, I'm talking huge, hairy tarantulas, crazy-freaky Tailless Whip Scorpions, Lycosids of all shapes and sizes, spiky abdomens, ginormous fangs, redonkulous proportions. It's true, everything is much effing bigger in the Amazon. Jeremy gets peed on by a bat that barely misses hitting Orlando's head (Orlando was our native guide for the first two days and the founder of the lodge, super knowledgable, bright, friendly, crinkly smile, intense, searching eyes.)

The night has come to an end and we join Jeremy in the canoe and head back to our campsite. We walk to the bathroom and note two tarantulas on the way. Remember to bring shoes and a light. One last treat before bed, a Black Caiman. Right on the water next to our tent is a very small (one meter with tail) Caiman, which is like an alligator. We get a good view of it but it isn't nice to shine lights in their eyes for very long and when we turn away it rapidly turns away too and swims for deeper water.

Sweating profusely but grinning wide we lay in our tent and try to fall asleep with the excitement of the day bouncing in our head and the excitement of the next day steeping in our brains.