Ecuador was wet, and muddy… But of stunning beauty. I was all set to go to the capital, Quito, but destiny didn’t want any of it… It had to have me cross the country by the easternmost road, thru the Amazon rainforest, let me explain! Everything was perfect in my world, I’m making good time despite the constant rains, taking refuge when it is too dangerous to drive, and stopping under roofs when needed with or without permission. And then, splash, a major bridge collapsed down a canyon, and the road to Quito is no more! What a sight! The whole damn bridge is broken, pointing up at a 45 degrees angle, totally broken.

Dozens of workers milling around, massive earth moving equipment all around, I’m flabbergasted… Luis, the foreman is a well educated gentle man, he speaks English, the first person who does so far in this country, and he takes me around the site. We walk in the tortured soil down to the furious river down below to check the depth of the water. Maybe I can cross this large and wide torrent and go to the other steep side, I’ve got an adventure bike after all. Well, it was so deep, my high right boot is submerged, my foot is swimming in cold water, there’s no way America could make it, the engine would be well under water, I don’t want to risk it. It’s almost night time anyway. Luis tells me there might be a room available at the nearby hotel I was admiring a couple of previous kilometers away, the working crew is lodged there. What a beautiful opportunity for the hotel, I wonder if the owner used dynamite?

This was a luxury lodge, well worth its steep price of $20! A welcome hot shower got rid of my hand and feet wrinkles, I’m squeezing water out of my gloves, socks, pants, I’m a wet mess! I had dinner, with a great hot chicken soup, at Luis’ table with his underlings, people I dont know buy me beers and talk rapidly in a unintelligible language, we all laugh and I’m planning a plan B. This new road crosses the entire country north to south, the last road before the inextricable Amazonian forest to the east. I did the math, and I only lost 4 hours with this new itinerary, no sweat.

In my mind, the Amazon is flat, red roads bordered by intricate foliage, typical scenery remembered from all the green hell movies we all watched at some point in our life. Well, flat it isn’t! I’m climbing mountain roads, one mountain after the other. Lots of curbs, but the rains finally became just annoying drizzles. You can physically see that they were not so gentle for the past few days. It’s been pouring sheets, the road is littered with remnants of landslides, falling rocks road signs were not lying, they’re everywhere. Basically we off-road every few minutes, I’m so proud of America bopping up and down, until she fells in a very deep spongy mud area. I had become too lenient and self confident and wanted to keep my speed average honorable. I braked too hard upon a sudden muddy section, hard enough that it broke the hastily repaired handle. I saw it fly away before America slid and fell on its side in the deep mud! Pinned under the weight of the heavy bike and luggage, two good samaritans save me, so glad to be wearing my sky boots, I’m unscathed. Covered in brown mud, and sprinkled with sticky plant seeds, I’m searching unsuccessfully for the flying handle for a good half an hour. I have no choice but to reach civilization and hope I find a mechanic shop somewhere.

Of course this is a Sunday I realize, everyone must be in church! I mentally prepare some far out plans… The next big city where hopefully there is a Yamaha service center could be Loja, but this is a few hundred kilometers away. Maybe I can drive to the next town, there might be a hotel, maybe the lovely wife can Amazon and FedEx me the parts to that hypothetical hotel, I may have to wait and wait for days? In any case, step one is to get out of this mud, and ride with only the rear brake to save my skin… I’ve been told and read that 90% of the braking power on a motorcycle comes from the front brake, well that’s lost now. Back right up, I test the rear braking. Holy Molly! It takes for ever to come to a stop, even when I slam down on the pedal, almost a hundred of feet actually, I don’t know, do I look like I know how to evaluate distance? Way too long though. I have to be real slow now you hear? And so I go, back on the road, riding like an old stoned fart, 20 kilometers an hour tops! People behind honk at me, I dont care, I dont want to fall again. Slowly I reach a couple of sleepy villages, nothing. It took me 2 hours to make the 50 kilometers to Pangui, and o miracle! There is a motorcycle shop, and it’s open! The owner tells me it doesn’t have any part to sell, but he’s confident the Taller de Moto, moto mechanic, a few blocks away can take care of me. That’s my luck, he’s working today, on a Sunday, must be a fellow atheist? The very young man, Kevin, is confident he can fix it. And indeed he did! Took him a short 20 minutes to outfit America with a brand new functioning brake handle, it’s black but who cares? It works wonderfully, even better that the original handle it seems. Oh what joy, alleluia, I found religion! Thank you thank you Kevin and the universe, he wanted 5 dollars,
I give him ten, everyone is happy. By the way, did you know that
Ecuador use American currency, how fortuitous!

I vow to continue to the big city, Loja, 142 kilometers away, and I drive like a maniac laughing histerically all the way. Loja is a very big city, I see it in the distance from the top of my mountain, glowing yellow in the distance, I’m bound to find a hotel with hot water to wash away all my mud. Yes indeed, another $20 down the drain, along with my earthy muddy body covering. It’s way past midnight when I tell my tale to the lovely wife, I’m so tired I’m incoherent and I sleep like a happy baby.

America and I do not go unnoticed in these parts, whenever we ride among the masses, people stare at our beautiful sight. Surely the height and bulk of my mount is impressive, most if not all motorcycles I’ve seen so far are of a smaller engine size, and invariably I’m being asked the size of my engine. When I answer 700 cc, jaws drop and I’m given a thumb up with an envious smile. This happened again this morning when I was saddling her with all our bags in front of my Loja hotel. First it is a distinguished and older white mustachioed gentleman who congratulates me on my travels and wishes me an hispanic bon voyage, then Ulises, an outgoing English speaking man reiterates the cylinders question, I oblige and we start the common banter of where I am from and going. Taking advantage of this friendly conversation I am inquiring about the route I planned and Ulises seems to be a very seasoned traveler. He recommends another border crossing, it is a much better and more beautiful road that would save me time and trouble as the intended ride will cross difficult and landslide prone dangerous roads. What serendipitous and happy encounter, I’m so thrilled to have met this knowledgeable individual who goes on to recommend delicacies from Macara, the replacing border town where I’ll enter Peru. We are now Facebook friend, and if you read this mon nouvel ami, thank you again! Meat ceviche that is, and yes I tried it, its okay, but I won’t eat that every day.

Crossing into Peru was a cinch, friendly officials and I enter the 10th country of The Trip at twilight. The scenery looks about the same and I am searching in my mind for the uniqueness of Ecuador to report in my musings. I think that this geographically dividing land is home to the most careless farmers of all, and I want to hereby admonish them! People of Ecuador, keep a better eye on your animals for heavens sake! Cows, horses wild or not, donkeys or maybe mules, pigs, goats, sheep, chickens, and cats and dogs are all running amok on the roads, free from any supervision, what the heck? Very liberal or inattentive husbandry technics I think. And then, I’m in Peru, and it’s the same thing! A foolish calf is running down full speed the slowly descending road, his mother looking stressed out runs after him. Mother or older sister or aunt, what do I know? But they are rushing in the middle of the road, oblivious to danger, a mini stampede in traffic, quite fun to look at. This breed of cows is not the kind we’re used to though, they are greyish white, with a large hump over their shoulder blades, you know, like the sacred ones in India, they are also very skinny, their ribs are showing, not so good for T-bone steaks I wonder… Anyway, as soon as I’m in Peru, herds of loose goats and cows frequent the roadways, be careful riders! A huge female pink pig, a sow then, tits hanging, warms herself on the warm pavement, and a little later, a smaller black one with her piglet, a cochonnet arf arf, runs across in front of me. It’s a zoo!

I’ve been in Peru for a couple of days now and I must say I’m very disappointed. In terms of cleanliness this is the worst country I’ve ever been in. Trash everywhere, litter literally all over the place! So much so, it is as if they don’t care at all, even in cities. At traffic lights I have to hold my breath not to inhale the dirty smells of rotting garbage all around. I’m appalled. Also, the cities are not that nice, boring constructions, uneven streets, potholes every few meters… Flooded streets force rerouting in all peopled areas, probably because they couldn’t handle all that recent rain, we’re splashing pedestrians who dont seem to care. It looks like the roads descended in altitude, no more hills or mountains, we’re now in a very flat, long, straight flooded desert covered in trash. The highway is auspiciously made for speeding, I have to restrain myself as America feels free to pass the 140 kilometers per hour frequently. Almost nobody on the road, cars must be expensively out of reach to most. Innumerable tricycle motorcycles of the Chinese type, outfitted with seating for 4 in the back cargo bay, crowd every city streets. All rushing like mad of course, no signaling, nothing, gotta be careful!

And squalor, apparent in every Pueblo, most of the dwellings along the highway seem to have no electricity nor water. I see Indian looking women washing dishes in brightly colored plastic tubs outside of their hut like houses, among trash… What a life, and then what contrast between lifestyles. I stopped for the night in a fairly big city, Chiclayo, the fourth most populous in the country with more than 800 thousand souls. Also flooded, also smelly, excepted for the shopping district near my hotel. I had to look for a place where I could transform my dollars into suns, the Peruvian money is the sol, and on the way, I crossed a very American looking district with pedestrian streets and the gamut of Nike and Adidas modern stores and shopping plazas and electronic shops and women with big shopping bags looking all wealthy and mascaraed… The hawking man outside of Western Union actually gave me a better exchange rate than inside, I checked, and with fresh money in hand I allowed myself a fruity ice-cream bowl. Can’t wait for Machu Pichu to get out of here. I need Peru to seduce me, so far it hasn’t…