We invite you on a journey throughout our first Ecuadorian expedition. Mountains, craters and rivers, forests and magical encounters. We could not help but offer you, not one, but TWO updates, to lure all tastes and preferences; a narrative account of the adventures, and a lyrical tribute to these experiences...enjoy!
Preface:
First, Humble Scribe would like to say
How dearly sorry he is for the delay
These words have traveled through many hands
And many a mile to reach you and…
Expedition Lyrical:
Time is such a silly thing
As thin as wisps of silky string
But it never stops unraveling
As semester won’t stop pedaling.
Waking to prepare the ride
A couple hours sneaking by
The top of Palugo driveway pushes us
Into expedition ludicrous.
Tires flattening, popping chains
Flying down closed-to-car roads that are paved
We're pedaling up cobblestone hills through the clouds.
Though vision's obscured, the landscape is loud.
Finding the train track for travel we may
For three days until we reach San Clemente,
A town in the mountains, hidden in fog
Over ravines and prickers and logs.
The train track leads us into a court--
A basketball court where we drink barley malt,
A sparkling beverage for champions.
And soon we reach Paradiso, avocado land,
The yoga lady’s (Nicole's ) family in the land of no darkness.
For flower plantations illuminate all of us,
Orange in the distance 24/7.
Too many cooks in the kitchen isn't heaven.
Gas powered flames feed us pasta and cheese,
Elongating evenings with semester meetings.
Awake at 5:30, we leave early fairest,
Readying our bikes and scarfing down breakfast,
For a 55 kilometer day
Is the first of its kind for us in Ecuador today.
Beginning to struggle in torment up hills
Makes reaching the top a bliss overfill.
Looking down on the cows looking smaller
Volcanoes shaping these lands where it’s taller.
Finding the train tracks again we travel
Derailleur bend, chains continue to unravel,
Pedaling through the sea of pain
Of pricker plants and misbehaved
Dogs and children chasing us.
The sand is yellow, orange, and red
The tunnel is dark with rocks that shed.
Technical terrain and adrenaline, too
Does “Ecuadorian Flat” mean anything to you?
We settle by the water flow to set up camp
Lentils for dinner and fire for lamp.
Ecuadorian ghost stories
Beckon semester to sleep with ease.
As the sky still dark dawns the day,
We ready our minds and bodies for daze
Of climbing, pedaling faces of mountains
Losing our oxygen, altitude countin’
Breakfast in the plaza of Cayambe.
Through farmland we head on into the Andes
Purchasing cheese and bread we stumble
Upon a ceremony, a drumming of rumble.
Fire and smoke fills the body of the drum;
They dance for the liberation of the Condor.
Siesta before the slopes of doom
Approach us with their gropes of sweaty fume.
And over dying grasses, dirt
Hiking our bikes til day converts
Into night to cross ravines.
Finally we reach Casa del Cerro
The home and family of Mr. Roberto
Where we are served traditional courses
Filling us up like oversized horses.
Mañana semester gathers in a circle
To acknowledge a lamb and its spirit removal.
The knife that slit its throat drew blood
And we stood in silence like frozen mud.
Minga takes the form of rock-rolling construction
Followed by lunch course’s massive eruption;
Sketching the mountains as blind artists
Misjudgment in fingers to find the sharpest
Peak, leak through the roof where the holes dwell
Wake at 3 in the AM for a full spell.
Step after step into elevated grasses
Climbing onto rock faces, reaching new classes.
The summit of Imbabura capturing eyes,
With clouded fog consumption of minds.
Rolling and sliding to Casa del Cerro,
To rest and prepare for descending with airflow.
San Clemente waiting in a stone sun
Inviting us with rain chants, embroidering shirts a ton.
Finding our family to live, eat, and sleep
And learn to make shirts and waking up steep.
Hills are cobblestone leading to 350 families,
Food we’re getting served odors finer than everything.
Semester splits into twins and triplets
To live in a home where we have blankets.
But, waking to Minga with colossal logs
Carried with rope up hills through the fog,
Poles to be formed for building a house.
And semester’s rewarded with a lunch to shout about.
Foods that are new and melt in our mouths
Sweeter or savory, designing shirts in our house.
Later, as evenings are wetter and dark
We dress as San Clementians and hark!
We dance with masked demons into the night,
Music transforming the dance into flight.
Waking to pedal to follow last breakfast
With la familia and so glide down cobblestone, AIR-FEST
We ride through villages and come to a place
Where puppeteer actors greet our face
As we sit underneath our tarp,
We see water collecting leaving its mark…
So we rush to the theater, sleeping bags out
And dry off our bodies, resisting to shout.
Later we pack and leave Cotocachi faded,
To find Santa Rosa where again we are saturated.
Cloud forest truly living up to its name!
We sleep in a school for the ground is just rain…
We begin to realize semester’s half through
And the steps that we’ve been taking backward and what we are to do?
But we reach, on brighter days, a river in the mountains
The land of coffee beans: Rio de Lindo, and we’re shouting,
“Bananas we can pick from trees
and endless avocado trees!”
We settle in like kings and queens,
With tiled bathroom floors and lean
Lay in our hammocks with sore limbs and joints
From the never-ending hills and their points.
So Rio Lindo, filled up gringos
Filling up with coffee beans you can see from your window
Moving rocks from the river in the morning
WARNING: grilled paninis and lemonade pouring.
We travel across a rickety stick bridge
To the basket-maker-people, feeling welcomed like a kiss.
Baskets we weave in these mountains
Filling with ounces of snack mix, water bottle bouncing,
We take all day weaving the baskets we make
While these dwellers finish in the blink of a handshake.
Then we are traveling to the 1930s
To self-sustainable machines and we worry
Because panela is a relative to a stimulant.
The type to fill a bowl and then there’s nothing in it.
But the blocks of it, we are eating lots of it,
Chewing on it til we’re getting shocked by it, lost in it!
Rio Lindo is not that simple,
We got to be aware of the service they attend to.
Now Marco decides to hide from Polo
Michael, Marcela leaving us on solo.
Lily is the leader cuz we’re going to her home
To the mountain of the Intag, coffee in that zone.
On our way, we’re stopping on a hot spring
Hopping in the hot water just like cake under frosting.
Blissing in the hot tubs, slipping down the waterslide
Getting info on Cotopaxi from a bald guy.
Mostly narrow paved roads till we get there,
Greeted with banana smoothie beverages and low gears.
Banana and coffee bean dominating field
Field on the slope of the mountain to yield
Hanging onto tree limbs for dear life
While harvesting the beans to be turned into addicting spice.
Spreading the bokashi--manure and molasses
All over the coffee trees to grow in bigger masses.
Following days we turn the fruit into beans
By grinding them and heating them, roasting out caffeine.
Catching fish inside the tubs
Hollow out their bones and guts
And cook them up for lunch and such
With lots of rice and yucca munch.
Harvesting the aloe vera
Process into soap and share a
Bottle of lotion on bodies
Caring for the burns we carry.
Intag is a land that cries
To rid themselves of mining eyes
For gold, and iron, copper dwells
Cement and uranium as well.
Miners tell farmers to leave their home
And farmers revolt, set fire to stone.
Terrorists, they call them, play music of flame
Rapid guitar strums and voices of gain.
But later that evening was nothing too light
No other than “Men’s Night”!
The men of semester went out in their flight
And returned as different humans that night.
Now the women were festering secrets of wit
To destroy and to raid the “Men’s Night” hit.
But alas, all have survived this exertion
We continue on bikes through village insertion.
Sitting under waterfalls, sleeping in the soccer field--
Mathias gets us pineapple, coconut juice and we’ll
Pedal on till we reach thunder and lightning
Literally on the telephone poles striking.
Nicole leads fire breathing for our sore bodies
Stretching out limbs and our souls like a party.
Then we actually travel by motor and it’s over
Transition into history museum in the clovers--
Native archeological remains in the blaze
Of the lemon tree city and the lunch that we’re made.
In a restaurant, ice cream on our mouths
Semester never gets enough, back to the lightning house.
Now the Dammer brothers three, they arrive in the morning
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| Thomas and Mathias Dammer |
Vessels for the river on their trucks and it’s pouring.
Readying our luggage and our minds for the water flow
Big blue cataraft takes most of it, maybe so.
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| Cataraft |
We’re dry. That’s a lie,
These gnus maybe try,
 |
| Jacob and Merin in a gnu |
But the currents and hydraulics with waves, they call it white water
Constantly avoiding rooster tails, travel light rather.
Scouting out a rapid before we’re going at it,
And row row row your boat, life is but a habit.
Days on the river come with the fire
To cook up our meals while the water we desire.
Flipping in eddies heading straight for the waves
Always feeling ready to capsize in the haze.
We graze on animal crackers, pick up the pace
As the river gets deeper, angrier in her face
She rips tree limbs to obstruct our lines
And many a mosquito bite on our legs we find.
But we’re fine, in fact radical
Paddle like it’s magical
Factual to the events that were actual.
But we pass by our take out and have to haul our luggage
3 kilometers in two trips through the mud.
And it’s a 4 hours drive to Palugo, you know
That we won’t stop even if the wind blows
And time is still silly, it followed our tires
And wonders if Cotopaxi wakens her fire.
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| Humble Scribe, Jacob, with baby Koru |
Day 11: Rio Lindo (no distance)
After yet another unreal breakfast, we biked to see sugar processed. In Ecuador they make a pure “sweet” called panela which comes directly from the sugar cane and is made in a similar way to maple syrup. The machine was in use during the 1930s and still functions as one of the most self-sustainable processes we’d yet seen. The power of the river current is harnessed by a device, which is made up of bike parts and other recycled materials. We’d never consumed the amount of sugar that we did that day, mainly because the amount of it that surrounded us in various forms. The return bike ride was mostly downhill, but did not quite make up for all that sugar.
Day 12: Rio Lindo – Intag (Lily’s house) = 40km
This day was elected as group solo which meant that all of our instructors left us to make the 40km commute through the valley by ourselves. On our way we stopped at hot springs and chilled out for an hour there. The remainder of the trip was a bit stressful for the group, arising from unimportant arguments and perhaps the lack of teacher guidance. Most of the ride to Intag was uphill which drained us after 4 days of drinking coffee and eating panela. Our instructors met us there as we arrived. We said goodbye to Michael and Marcela and welcomed Matthias and Nicole as our new instructors to stay with us at Intag and wrap up the bike leg of the expedition.
Day 13: Intag (no distance)
Lily’s farm is also a coffee farm but at higher elevation than Rio Lindo. The trees are grown on the slope of the mountain. Our chores and Minga entailed spreading the bokashi, which is cow manure, rock minerals, and molasses, and very healthy for soil and plant growth. Many banana trees grow here as well, which we harvested and ate with meals. We also got to see the process of soap making which they make from their aloe vera.
Day 14: Intag (no distance)
For the start of the day we went fishing in the tubs at Intag and gutted them to be cooked for lunch with rice and yucca. After enjoying our lunch we harvested and processed coffee. First we picked the fruit from the trees and picked out the duds by seeing which ones floated in water. Then we ground them revealing the “bean” and began roasting them--the shorter the roast, the darker the bean. Later that evening we were visited by Lily’s uncle, an activist against mining, who educated us. Gold, uranium, cement, and copper are abundant in the Intag area. Mining had become unreasonable so farmers who were forced to leave their homes reacted violently. Families like Lily’s are trying to prove to the government that less destructive processes like coffee and soap making are more sustainable.
Day 15: Intag (no distance)
In the morning we walked through the forest to take a mandatory dip into a waterfall. We had another fiesta that night. Lily’s father and uncle play in a band which performed epic songs with two nylon string guitars and haunting harmonies. Again we danced wildly, nearly destroying the little house. That evening was Men’s Night where the men disappeared into the banana forest and returned as different people. The women tried to raid Men’s Night by theft and bribe. This, of course, meant war.
Day 16: Intag – Playa Rica =23km
Finally getting back on our bikes we stopped at a waterfall to cool down and snack. While stopping for lunch a man came out from his house and gave us tons of bananas. After a full day of dirt roads and “Ecuadorian Flat”, we arrived in Playa Rica to get bananas and decided to spend the evening on the soccer field there.
Day 17: Playa Rica – Palmito Pamba = 35km
The final day of our bike leg we pushed up a lot of uphill. Mathias got us fruit juices in a small town where they blasted Michael Jackson for us gringos. We beat the rain to our destination, a farm where we were able to get fresh milk for oatmeal the next morning.
Day 18: Palmito Pamba (no distance)
After cleaning up the bikes and recuperating from the last bike leg, we went to a museum to see archeological remains of natives in the area. We went out for lunch and got some ice cream. We went back to the farm and began expedition preparations for Rio Mulaute, where we were joined by Thomas and reunited with Michael. During this prep we were hit with a harsh thunder storm during which lightning struck a telephone pole only meters away.
Day 19: Palmito Pamba – Rio Mulaute = 2km
Finishing the last of our preparations in the morning, Francisco arrived with the truck for the boats followed by the van. We packed for an hour and a half drive to Rio Mulaute. After unpacking all our gear, we got lunch and got in the water to practice swimming white water. Then we got in our gnus, kayaks, and kataraft to head on down the rapids. Many capsized as it was the first day in gnus on constant class 3 rapids. We pitched a camp in the pouring rain and by evening the river had turned to chocolate.
Day 20: Rio Mulaute = 4km
After an anxiety overload during camp takedown, we got in the fast moving water and maneuvered through enlarged river features. The river began to settle as the day progressed but the current pushed us a much farther distance. We would stop before each rapid to scout out our line. Even by day two, we began to gain a better understanding of the water. We set up camp and shared deeper thoughts and our relation to the river in a circle.
Day 21: Rio Mulaute = 3km
The nature of the river began to curve and bend a bit more on the third day which meant securing our angle and powering our strokes to avoid crashing into the banks. We worked more on eddy catching and differentiating hydraulics and waves. We set up camp right on a beach which meant we had to establish an evacuation plan. We agreed that evening that the next day we would do group solo down the river to our take out.
Day 22: Rio Mulaute = 9km
Luckily the rains held off until early morning. We woke at 5:00 to start taking down camp. By the time we finished, the water had passed where our tents had been. We had to wait a couple of hours for the water to calm down. Naturally, solo was not going to happen due to the destructive weather. Once we were in the violent water, we made 9km in less than half the amount of time it took us to make 4km. We also passed the takeout point, which meant we had to carry all of our gear on foot for 3km through farmland and mud in two trips. Francisco arrived shortly after we were settled and we drove back to Palugo where hot soup was waiting for us.
Glossary: Minga: A work party
